


The Golden Order

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Series: The Crimson Codex [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Three of 'The Crimson Codex'. 2105. With a slayer out for her blood, Buffy becomes tangled up in a world of political scheming, back-stabbing, and treachery. And even a new master will need the help of her lovers to survive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_2105…_

The glass shattered with the impact, and Buffy tumbled out onto the front lawn, arms shielding her face from the razor-sharp shards. Her face twisted into its demonic features in a snarl, and she stood once more to face her foe.

The slayer leapt through the empty window frame gracefully, instantly in perfect fighting stance once more.

“Watcher teach you a bit too well?” Buffy taunted, feinting with a high kick and then connecting with a punch to the gut. The slayer doubled over in pain, and Buffy’s heel clipped her neatly under the jaw, sending the other brunette sprawling backward onto the grass. “Quick tip: It’s not about mastering the moves,” Buffy continued haughtily. “It’s about adaptability, creativity, downright innovation at times.”

“And you’re one to judge?” The slayer wiped the trickle of blood from her mouth angrily.

“Ooh, you’re making my stomach rumble,” Buffy rolled her eyes in disdain.

“You think I’m afraid of the biggest failure in slayer history?” the human retorted.

Buffy growled at that and lashed out. The slayer was ready, however, and caught her ankle. The momentum of Buffy’s kick went into the throw, and the vampiress crashed into the side of the house in an impact powerful enough that her bones rattled. Her eyes opened again just in time to catch the slayer’s stake three inches from her chest. Slowly, a wicked smile curved her lips.

“Is that what they’re teaching you?” she taunted, using her full strength to throw the girl back off of her. “That I failed?” She shook her head. “News flash: You’ll be dead in a couple of years, even if I don’t kill you tonight. Just like all the other poor, hapless little girls the watchers sink their claws into. Did it ever occur to you that I’m the only slayer who ever _succeeded_ , because I’m the one who beat the odds?”

The human’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’ve betrayed everything the calling stands for,” she hissed. She lunged, kicked, missed, pulled back and circled once again.

Buffy rolled her eyes in a bored manner. “‘The calling’?” she repeated in disbelief. “ _Please_ , don’t tell me they’re still feeding you that crap. ‘Cause, hello? Five thousand years of slayers and still not even a dent in the demon population.”

“There’ll be _one_ less.” The slayer retrieved her stake from the debris and brandished it menacingly.

“Struck a nerve?” Buffy retorted, ducking two swipes. “Or maybe you’re just pissed because deep inside you want it.” Her voice lowered to a seductive whisper. “I didn’t figure it polite to mention, but I can smell your arousal.”

The other girl screamed angrily and rushed at her in a foolhardy gesture.

Buffy ducked and tripped her as she ran by, sending the other girl sprawling on her face. Instantly, she was upon the slayer’s back, fangs just inches from her throbbing jugular. “Hey, it’s all right. I swing both ways, y’know.”

She closed in for the kill and…

“Ahh!” She scrambled back with a screech, clutching the scalding flesh of her arm. She stared down at the black charred cross mark there, looked up just in time to get a foot in the face.

“I don’t think so,” the slayer hissed, stake raised.

Buffy scrambled for her footing, cradling her arm as she prepared to go another round.

“Plannin’ on taking on two, then?” Spike’s voice cut through the night, causing the slayer to whirl about in surprise.

Buffy had her opening but didn’t take it, choosing instead to glare at Spike for interrupting the kill of her life.

The slayer gulped. She’d seen plenty of pictures of Spike, digitally altered in dozens of ways to account for changes in style over the centuries. The short-cropped black hair didn’t fool her for an instant, even though he’d been a platinum blond in his last known photo. Although she had imagined that he’d be…taller.

Still, shit, she didn’t know if she could take them both. But Kennedy would try to the death. Because that was how good she was. She raised her chin proudly, took a step toward him, stake raised…

“Girl knows her vamps,” Spike informed Buffy casually, seemingly completely unconcerned by the approaching slayer.

“She recognized me, too,” Buffy provided. She was still angry she wouldn’t get this kill for herself, but she grudgingly admitted it would’ve been a hard fight with the injuries to her arm. Not that she didn’t enjoy a hard fight…

“Knows she’s outmatched then, yeah?” Spike fixed the slayer with a midnight blue gaze. “But she’ll fight to the death like a good little trooper, won’t you, luv?”

“I’m not your ‘luv’,” Kennedy snapped angrily.

“Oh ho,” Spike chuckled, “a temper. Doesn’t seem to fancy me, either. That’s a new one.”

“She wants _me_ ,” Buffy retorted smugly.

Spike gulped at the image, adjusting his jeans in a gesture that disgusted Kennedy. “Hate to miss that,” he practically whispered.

Kennedy held the cross out in Buffy’s direction and kept the stake trained on him.

Spike gave Buffy a barely perceptible nod, but she understood it and slipped back off into the night grudgingly, without the slayer’s notice. “Tell you what,” Spike commented casually. “You go back on your merry huntin’ way, and we’ll tangle another day.” He frowned, repeating that sentence in his head. “Bloody poetry, never leaves me alone,” he grumbled under his breath, turning his back on Kennedy and leaping over the garden wall.

She blinked in surprise at his abrupt departure before running to where he’d disappeared, stretching her slayer senses out. Both vampires were gone. But not for long, Kennedy was willing to bet…

* * *

“No slayer blood tonight?” Buffy asked, somewhat surprised when Spike’s arm slipped about her waist from behind.

“’m not fool enough to take your kill, luv,” he murmured against her ear.

“I didn’t need your help,” she insisted sullenly.

“Know that.” He twisted her earlobe between his teeth.

“That tickles,” Buffy protest with a giggle when he breathed against the back of her neck, stirring the shoulder-length brown hairs there.

“Know what else tickles?” he teased.

She glowered at him over her shoulder, giving his butt a warning swat. “I still haven’t fed tonight,” she complained, pulling free of his arms. “I need to go get someone to eat.”

He pouted at that, jutting his lower lip out in that manner he knew reminded her of a kicked puppy-dog. “Could eat in tonight,” he suggested hopefully.

Buffy could smell the fresh blood flowing through his veins. He’d made at least two kills that night. “Plenty to share,” she purred in agreement, pushing him back until he sat on the end of the bed and then straddling his waist. Her fingers trailed through short black curls, savored his purr of anticipation, before tilting his head to one side and sinking her fangs slowly in.

He moaned as she gripped him harder, plunged even deeper within his flesh. His hands clutched at her waist with bruising intensity, rocking her hips in time with her sucks, grinding their sexes together roughly.

She felt him shudder beneath her at the last pull of blood. He hadn’t come in the traditional sense, but another sort of orgasm had shaken through his body. Her fangs retracted, and her tongue lapped at the marks on his neck, cleaning off the blood while they healed. She felt a brief moment of sadness that she’d never be able to mark him permanently – only sire and mate marks lingered – but she’d come to accept that over the past century. She already had more of her sire than most childer were ever granted, and she could never complain about the sincerity of his affections…

“I could’ve finished her off tonight,” she commented aloud, turning back to the night at hand.

“Mmm?” he murmured in lazy contentment.

“The slayer,” Buffy clarified. “I almost had her.” She thought back to the moment she’d had the girl pinned to the ground, right before the cross had burned her arm.

Spike was apparently remembering the same moment because he pulled back to check on her wound. Filled with his blood, the flesh on her arm wove together over the burn, fading it from memory. He placed a soft kiss against the inside of her elbow nonetheless. “Prob’ly couldn’t’ve passed up an openin’ as good as that myself,” he conceded.

She frowned. “You don’t think I would’ve beaten her?” she demanded, a little offended.

“I think you were gettin’ to her,” he corrected. “Tough to judge until just the right moment whether or today is your one good day. But no reason not to let her simmer just a bit, let that death wish come through nice’n’loud.” He caught her waist and pulled her back onto the bed beside him.

“You just wanna get laid,” she accused him petulantly.

He flashed her a rakish grin. “Got it in one, luv,” he agreed, rolling her beneath him and stripping her as he went.

Her own hand pushed away at his leather jacket, opened his shirt wide, and fumbled at the fastenings of his pants. Hasty fingers a little too eager to find bare flesh. But when she finally held him in her hands, guided him up into her womb, it made it all worthwhile. She moaned as he moved within her, pressed her lips to his, and thought that she could live like this forever. 

And then she wasn’t able to think at all as the pleasure overcame them…

* * *

Drusilla lay back, contented and sated, watching the two fledglings get each other off. The blond currently had the brunet’s cock up his ass and was writhing in ecstasy as the elder fledgling gave him a hand-job in time to his thrusts. Drusilla touched herself languidly and egged them on, hoping the brunet would go so deep he’d rupture something within the blond. That extra scent of blood and pain that made everything twice as exciting…

She’d had both pretty boys earlier, in every position she could think of, and her body ached pleasantly. They hadn’t been as good as her beautiful childer, of course.

Dru had noticed her thoughts drifting back to her two lovers over the past week. It had been almost three months since she’d seen them last, now. Just enough time for her immortal companions to seem new and exciting once more.

She missed them, in truth. Missed the barbed words, the growls and whimpers, the bright red sprays of blood and the two very bitable asses. And, of course, the little green fireflies that flitted about their heads. Trails of luminescence so much brighter than the others, spelling out in ancient runes that their fates were bound to hers in an intricate tapestry. That they were _hers_.

These two were hers, too, in a way. She watched the blond come, the brunet on his heels – although not literally. Now _that_ would’ve been interesting. But, yes, these two were hers. She told them when to feed, when to fuck, when to come. They would pleasure her until starvation drove them mad, if she asked.

But their destinies were brief flickers, so she paid them little mind even as they curled up on either side of her.

“Shall we pleasure you again, mistress?”

So eager to please. She appreciated that at the moment. “Blankets and bedclothes, _aaall_ wrapped up for the night.”

The blond gave the brunet a confused look.

“I think that means no…”

“Cupie, cupie!” Drusilla clapped in merriment. So fun to tease these simple minds. Watch their fear and confusion. Her Spike and her Buffy would’ve figured out her little game by now, but not these two. Oh, she could play with them long and hard and…

A gasp escaped her lips, and she jolted upright as a dark tremor rumbled through her consciousness. Like something had sunk its claws into the back of her mind, snapped a piece of her up, and severed the tangled thread that had bound it to her.

“What was _that_?” the brunet shivered, hand seeking the other male’s instinctively.

Not a vision or one of her delusions, then. If the others could sense it, this was something much more visceral. “Clouds of shimmering gold dust,” she thought aloud. “Ages reduced to whispers and, at the center of it all, a deep, black void…”

“What’s she talking about?” the blond asked nervously.

The brunet gulped. “It’s sort of like how it felt when my sire dusted,” he offered.

“Seriously?” The blond sounded curious.

“Except less… _powerful_ ,” the brunet nodded. “Whose sire must that have been to feel…” he gulped, “like _that_?”

“The Golden Order has lost its king,” Drusilla informed them, tiring of their prattling, “and the Violet Persian its queen, I think…”

“This that war we’ve been hearing about?” the blond ventured. “The big cheese duking it out?”

Dru sighed. She didn’t have time for these two right now. A coy smile on her lips, she beckoned them each inward with a crooked white nail. “Mommy has a little secret to share,” she sing-songed.

They both leaned in hopefully…

“Tonight is you last night.”

…And screamed in horror as their hearts were ripped from their chests, crushed to dust.

Drusilla watched them crumble, saw the blood trickle down her hands, and regretted the momentary loss of pleasure. But darkness itself was swirling into motion now, and the fewer unworthy aware of it, the better.

Her companions had been pleasure; this was family. And, as Drusilla dressed and prepared to meet her summons, she reminded herself that family always came first…

* * *

“Your sacred duty always comes first.”

Kennedy nodded vigorously, reading the tome over her watcher’s shoulder.

“This fallen slayer’s watcher betrayed everything we stand for,” he continued to lecture in clear, precise British tones. “Not only did he fail to destroy the demon that took hold of his charge’s body, but he lied about her continued threat. Severe punishment would have been dealt out had Buffy’s continued existence been discovered while Rupert Giles still lived.”

“No one to take the blame.” Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “He was a coward.”

“Quite. But we can do our best to remedy the situation.”

“I’m taking that California bitch out?”

“Colorful but accurate,” he agreed. “It is of primary importance that we dispose of this vampire, especially if she already fights as a Master.”

Kennedy rubbed her sore back tenderly. “She does.”

“Then, this,” he pointed at the picture of Buffy – blonde and smiling happily – violently, “is your mission. All else is secondary. The Council will provide you with whatever means are necessary until—”

“Either she’s dead, or I am.”

“Indeed.”

Kennedy just grinned smugly. “Then, let the best slayer win…”

* * *

“Mmm,” Buffy sighed, rolling over lazily in bed, “did you feel a shiver?”

“Some big-wig kicked it last night,” Spike mumbled, breathing in the floral scent of her hair and snuggling back into sleep. “Nothin’ to fuss ourselves about.”

“’k, then,” she agreed happily enough, wrapping herself up in his body. She’d woken up too well to fall back asleep again, though, even with her sire’s nude body as a full-length pillow. “Whatcha wanna do today?” she asked lightly, trailing her fingers up and down his chest.

He grunted and rolled over, trying to fall back asleep.

Buffy nibbled lightly on his shoulder. “Mmm…sire… Don’t see why I’d want to taste slayer at all when I can have you.” She licked a line across his shoulder blade.

He sighed at that. “You deserve it,” he answered simply.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t care about that,” she insisted, nuzzling him fondly. “I care about _you_.”

“And ‘s getting you blacklisted by the Order,” he retorted.

Her fingers played across his chest lightly, taking a moment to savor his presence and consider the growing argument between them. Basically, the fact that she hadn’t been ‘officially’ named a Master of the Order of Aurelius, even though she blatantly obviously _was_ a master vampire by now. The reason she was being looked over was even more obvious: Spike had done more than his fair share of pissing off their entire extended family over the centuries, and they were getting their revenge on him by shunning his childe.

Frankly, Buffy didn’t care about titles and such. Spike hadn’t ever seemed to, either, except for this. A bit of that old Victorian chivalry that railed against her being insulted for his crimes. And Buffy could certainly understand why he was pissed.

“I’d rather spend eternity by your side,” she whispered fervently against his chest, “than leave you just so the Order will give me a pat on the head.”

He smiled, despite himself. “Have I mentioned lately you’re the light of my unlife?”

She smiled down at him. “You could always show me. Repeatedly.”

He purred at that. “Where are the scarves?”

“You’re tying me up?” she teased lightly, sitting up to reach into their drawer of toys.

“No,” he countered seductively, “ _you’re_ tyin’ _me_ up.”

A possessive growl rumbled through her chest. Oh, she loved when he lay himself completely at her mercy, the trust and adoration in his eyes, all the time in the world given her to make him scream his throat raw with pleasure…

She reached for the drawer…and frowned. “What’s this?” she asked, puzzled at the envelope lying atop the mahogany shelf. 

She reached for it curiously, entranced by its beauty. She’d never seen an envelope like this before. It was perfectly black, almost as if the darkest felt had been made paper-thin. It felt like parchment, though, framed with a thin gold trim. Somehow, Buffy wasn’t surprised to feel that the leaf was real gold.

“What’s what?” Spike inquired, rolling over to see what she was so interested in. He spotted the envelope, and instantly his eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no…” he murmured in practically a whisper.

“Did you put this here?” Buffy inquired. “It’s beaut—” She froze mid-sentence at the look of shock on his face. “Spike?” she asked, concerned.

“Give it here, luv,” he whispered hoarsely, holding out his hand shakily.

Buffy frowned and handed it over. “I’m not going to damage it or—”

“ _They_ put it there,” he answered her previous question belatedly.

She blinked slowly. “They?” She was starting to get a bit frightened by the way he was acting. She’d never seen him this nervous before. “Spike, what’s going on?” she demanded more sternly this time.

He sighed, the shock apparently wearing slowly off. “Got myself a summons, luv,” he replied, sounding not at all enthusiastic. Opening the envelope, he pulled out the sheet of paper inside, a sheet as dark ebony as the envelope.

Buffy leaned in closer when she saw the glint of letters in the candlelight. Apparently, the text had been written in gold ink.

“Must be ‘cause of the big dusting last night…” he sighed, handing the letter over to her so she could read it to him. A pity vampire vision hadn’t done a thing for those reading glasses he needed, and he wasn’t about to squint from a few feet away at something this important.

Buffy shivered at his words. They meant that whoever had planted the letter had placed it in their room last night. For some reason, the thought of someone sneaking through their bedroom while they slept in each other’s arms gave her chills. Like their intimacy had been violated by an outsider. Buffy refused to even consider the possibility that the messenger had snuck in while they were making love…

“Invasive bastards, aren’t they?” Spike echoed her thoughts.

Buffy nodded and read aloud, tilting the paper just right so the gold glinted in the candlelight and made the words come alive. “‘William Arthur Barrington’,” she looked up at him in surprise at only the second time she’d seen his full name.

“Know everythin’, too,” he sighed.

“‘Your presence is required at The Haven. We’ll expect you in three days’ time.’” She frowned at the signature, suddenly realizing why he’d reacted so strongly to the distinctive stationary. “‘Signed, The Golden Order’.”

“Bugger,” he swore vehemently in response.


	2. Chapter 2

A pulsing beat thrummed through the dance club, and Buffy’s hips instinctively swung with the music, creating a counterpoint between her predatory steps and the sweaty throngs of life. She picked up half a dozen meal offers on her circuit of the dance floor, in three different languages, but she turned them all down with equal acumen. She had a specific goal in mind tonight.

Despite Vienna’s crumbling image at the end of the last century, it had experienced a recent revival. Several of the most popular youth bands had sprung up in the area, and soon Vienna was one of the top spots in the world for late night parties, college road trips, and just general festivity. Humans had flocked from halfway around the world to visit this club, dance with the women, and Buffy found the scent of excited blood in the air almost too intoxicating to concentrate.

But concentrate she did, shaking off another offer – Russian, this time – with a pleasant, if apologetic, smile. Sheer luck found her a table on the upper level overlooking the dance floor, and she sat and watched, intent on her search.

Because, for the first time tonight, she sought not just a last night snack, but a long-term companion as well…

 _“You’re actually going,” Buffy blinked in disbelief, watching Spike toss shirts haphazardly into his duffel bag._

 _“Got a summons, right?” he retorted, scowling at the mess he’d made for himself. Damn bag wouldn’t close. He lifted one foot to stomp on the contents._

 _With a sigh, Buffy caught his foot before he could further dirty his clothes, guided his hips pointedly so that he was sitting on the bed, and set upon the terrifying task of straightening out Spike’s luggage. She tossed half the shirts his way. “Fold,” she ordered sternly._

 _He sighed and complied, watching her back as she organized the duffel bag. “’S not that big a deal,” he offered hopefully. “Prob’ly just need to vote on some wanna-be scary. Be back before you know it.”_

 _She shook her head, a tight smile on her lips. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”_

 _“Do what?”_

 _“Play nice with the Order. For my sake.”_

 _His expression softened at that, and he rose, arms slipping around her waist from behind and holding her against the hard line of his body._

 _She sighed and relaxed into him, letting her eyes drift shut. “Sire…” she purred._

 _“My love,” his lips brushed her hair._

 _“You know I don’t care about—” she began._

 _He halted her by turning her in his arms so that she faced him. “I do,” he countered. “’m not letting them disgrace you just because ‘ve taken a few potshots at the old fuddy-duddies high up. If the price I pay is playin’ nice at some big family function, then ‘s worth it.”_

 _She couldn’t argue with his logic, even if she didn’t like it. The placement of the letter where she’d find it first had sent a clear but subtle message, emphasizing that she hadn’t gotten her own summons but very much should have. A little blackmail on the Order’s part, then. Spike, for Buffy. She guessed they really did know anything because it was the only trade that was likely to persuade him…_

 _“I still don’t see why, if they hate you so much, they even want you to attend their stupid gathering,” she sulked._

 _“Power-hungry gits want to show that they can boss everyone around, including yours truly,” he retorted with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, returning to his bed and the arduous task of folding shirts._

 _Buffy couldn’t help but smile at her lover’s impatience. He had this look on his face like it was the greatest hardship in the world just to actually fold a shirt before putting it in his bag. Yet, sullen frown on face, he stuck to his task doggedly. Impulsive and stubborn, all at once. She hadn’t thought it was possible to fall more in love with him, but she did in that moment._

 _“Thank you,” she whispered softly, brushing back one brunet curl that had fallen onto his forehead and gently kissing his temple…_

Buffy sighed as she watched the club. Dozens of couples, grinding together erotically, caught up in a brief, bright flicker they thought was love. She’d been like them once, she dimly remembered. Caught up in fairy tales and teenage dramas, sobbing her eyes out over what had ultimately been some trivial speck in her existence. 

It was funny the perspective an entire century of life gave you. That couple slow-dancing in the corner looked so much like they were in love, but Buffy knew it was all just the blink of an eye. _True_ love came from years of living together, just being close, enduring fights and time apart and loss and happiness, but still staying together over the decades. It wasn’t about the tragedy or the hormones, shared interests, even the sex. It was time itself. Growing only closer over the years and knowing that, no matter what else may change, there’s something deeper than the physical, the mental, and the spiritual that will keep the two of you together.

And, god, Spike’s leaving was making her all broody and introspective.

She’d escaped most of that after she’d left Salzburg. Two days of waking up in that empty bed, and already she’d needed to leave, to forget. Even Spike’s lingering scent on the sheets hadn’t been motivation enough to stay.

She’d considered seeking out Dru, her other sire, but if Spike had gotten dragged into this big Order thing, Drusilla would undoubtedly be going as well. She actually had some vestiges of respect for vampire customs and authorities. It was probably the biggest difference between her and Spike.

So, no. For the first time in Buffy’s unlife, she had no family to turn to. So she’d done what any good predator would do and followed the herd. Although apparently not without quite a bit of moping and self-pity. 

But dwelling on the old was a pointless activity. Always best to look forward to the new…

She quickly ordered a drink and turned back to picking out her newest companion. Frankly, the very prospect overwhelmed her. On the one hand, she didn’t want to go to bed alone tonight. She was tired of it, had taken the midnight train all the way here for the sole purpose of avoiding it. On the other hand, how exactly did one pick a companion for eternity? How had Drusilla looked at William that first time and _known_ he would be hers forever? How had both Dru and Spike looked upon her back when she had been the slayer and known the same?

Some part of her was hoping she would just spot some poor, unsuspecting human and _know_. There had to be some connection there, right? Some moment when her undead heart would feel like it was beating again…

Of course, the fact that she _hadn’t_ experienced anything like that even once in one hundred eight years was rather discouraging. She’d turned other vampires, sure, but they’d been minions and fledglings, necessary labor for whatever enterprise she and her sires had taken upon themselves. But she’d never been close to any of them. Fucked them, yeah, but there was no emotional connection, at least on her part.

Nothing that would give her that glint of pride and love in her eyes when she whispered the word ‘childe’…

 _“Childe,” Spike breathed in a low purr, turning his head to one side as best he could to rest against the curve of her breast._

 _Buffy stroked his bare chest, long pink nails paying special attention to the thin red lines – cuts she’d inflicted in pain and pleasure as she tasted his body. She nuzzled his hair lightly, breathed in his scent. Savored every moment of this last night together…_

 _“You gonna untie me anytime soon?” he wondered lazily, left wrist twisting a little on the crimson silk scarf that bound his hand to the head of the bed. After all, he’d promised to let her tie him up, and not the devil himself would sway Spike from that pleasurable promise._

 _She purred and smiled against him. “I could just leave you like this,” she teased lightly. “Keep you all tied up so you can’t go anywhere.” Her lips brushed his, as feather-light as the wings of a butterfly. “Make you mine…”_

 _He kissed her, grinning mischievously. “You could,” he conceded. “But how long ‘til I broke free and punished you for your little treachery? Hmm?”_

 _“Ooh, punishment,” she teased, fingers already toying with the knot of the first scarf, loosening it. “Sounds fun.”_

 _He caught her to him with his newly-freed arm. “’ll miss you and your pretty carnage,” he promised._

 _“Me, too,” she smiled. And then straddled his waist again._

 _After all, they were vampires, not farcical heroes of some romance novel. So she’d wander about for a bit on her own, snap some necks, seduce some lovers, have a grand time of it all. They had forever. And, even if years stretched apart between them, it was nothing compared to what they’d shared so far and what they would continue to share in the future._

 _She impaled herself upon his cock once more, gasped in completion._

 _Demonic claws clutched at her waist as he guided her, thrust up into her. She vamped out as well, caving to the wild abandonment at that moment._

 _And one final comment escaped his lips. Seemingly trivial at the time, but something to dwell on in the hours – days, years – afterwards:_

 _“Could always make yourself a childe of your own, pet.”_

The idea had never really struck Buffy before, for obvious reasons. She had all the family she needed. Adding a childe to the mix had seemed completely unnecessary and even disruptive to her happiness.

Now, however, for the first time, she had no sires to share the hunt with. Apparently she did need just a bit more family. Hence, her quest for the night. A companion, someone who would place _her_ first, above all other obligations. Her very own childe…

The notion excited her and terrified her. But, more than anything else, she didn’t want to be lonely. She’d had enough of that during her slayer years. Now, she could make limitless companionship for herself. If only she had a companion to pick…

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

Buffy looked up at the young man and smiled. Soulful, dark puppy-dog eyes smiled back at her from a handsome face with dark hair. Nice, lean body. Sometimes unlife was just too easy…

“Nope,” she fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “It’s just me.”

“I’m surprised no one’s tried to join you yet,” he smiled softly, almost shyly, as he sat down. “A pretty girl like you…”

Oh, he looked innocent, but she could see beneath the act. His bearing was that of a predator trying to hide himself among the prey, and he was young at it. Mortal – human – Buffy’s nose told her. But still a wolf in sheep’s clothing. On the hunt for young girls and their sex, no doubt. This boy had no clue what he’d just gotten himself into…

“Thanks,” she smiled, blushed a little. It was a strange rumor that vampires couldn’t blush. Ridiculous really, to believe that masters of blood and life wouldn’t be able to channel just that little extra blood to their cheeks whenever they wanted. Plus, it was great for putting prey at ease.

“Where are you from?” he asked curiously, setting his drink down across from hers.

He was speaking English. Not unusual, but not the most common language here, either. A tourist, then, probably a college student. Most likely from England, Canada, or Australia. His accent sounded oddly American, but since the U.S. economy had imploded in the 2070s, most Americans were living below the poverty line, unable to seek school or travel abroad.

Some of the northernmost American states had become Canadian provinces, however. That was probably her best bet.

“Canada,” she answered shyly.

“Really? Me, too. Where from?”

She made an educated guess. “Chicago.”

He grinned. “That’s where my grandma lives.”

“Really? No kidding.” A little ditzy giggle just to throw him even more off guard. “Small world.”

“Isn’t it?” he smiled.

“So…” She swirled her straw in her drink before leaning in pointedly and sucking, cheeks pulled in all the way. A naughty little act that an innocent girl like Buffy Summers, college student, wouldn’t even realize. “You never told me your name.”

“My bad,” he gave her that mysterious smile that undoubtedly caused immature little seventeen-year-olds to sigh. “Parker Abrahms.”

She smiled back, fighting back the urge to flash a little fang. “Buffy Summers.”

 _“You can’t be serious,” Buffy commented afterwards, Spike’s body spooned against her back as they enjoyed the aftershocks._

 _“’Bout what?” he murmured, fangs grazing her skin lightly just enough to draw blood to the surface but not enough to pierce the flesh of her back._

 _“Me,” she clarified. “With a childe.”_

 _He shrugged. “Why not?”_

 _“Because…” She hesitated. “It’s just weird.” She waved her hands vaguely. “I’m barely strong enough to—”_

 _“You’re a hundred-year-old master,” Spike retorted. “Plenty of power there to look after a childe.” He sighed. “Wasn’t much older when I found you, as you’ll recall.”_

 _She smiled softly at that. “Yeah,” she agreed lazily, fingers trailing down the muscles of his arm where it was wrapped around her waist._

 _“’Sides, ‘s about time you had a go at it. Jump off the deep end and all.”_

 _She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded._

 _“It means,” he explained with a put-upon sigh, “that you’ve been unlivin’ your life with me and Dru for over a hundred years now. Bit of a stretch would do you some good, luv.”_

 _“You think I can’t take care of myself?” she accused angrily._

 _“No,” he corrected. “I think you can take perfect care of yourself. ‘m just saying you’ve got a bit dependent is all. Need to make sure you can adapt.”_

 _“I adapt just fine,” she insisted sulkily._

 _“Do you?” he retorted a bit harshly._

 _She didn’t answer, just pulled away from him. Sometimes his habit of just laying out the blunt, honest truth drove her up the wall. But they wouldn’t have made it through the last century together if she hadn’t secretly learned to love that part of him, too._

 _By the time he left that evening, she was buried in his chest once more for a lingering good-bye. And wondering all the while whether he was right…_

Buffy smiled at her latest victim. And, for a brief instant, eternity slipped out into that smile.

Parker frowned, puzzled, finally starting to realize this wasn’t just another co-ed for him to fuck and dump. Something was different this time.

“Dance?” The question was offered with an extended hand. Pale, perfect, delicate fingers.

He wrapped his own larger hand around hers, gasped for a moment when he felt strength instead of frailty in her grasp. She led him to the dance floor with a sway of her hips and a twinkle in her eye. Increasingly perplexed – and intrigued – he followed.

Buffy felt the dance flow through her. The whole room was throbbing with music and life, and for a second it seemed her heart was beating once more, in perfect time to the crowd around her. She wrapped her body around his, held him close, and she ground their hips together.

She’d known the dance so intimately for so long now, she didn’t even need to think of the steps.

Mortals screamed, cried, fucked, died.

Buildings rose, atrophied, crumbled to ash.

Cities sprouted out green and lush, overcrowded, stunk with decay, sprawled, gasped, and were abandoned.

Empires rose, pure and white, twisted with corruption, polluted, invaded, violated, sunk under the own weight.

And, with each fall, another arose, as bright and full of promise as that before it, only to follow the same cycle. Endless turns of the wheel as life marched on, and only the undead watched it all, saw each cause, each effect. Fit the pieces together like an intricate jigsaw puzzle so that the mysteries of humanity were mysteries no longer.

A mistake, and quick death at the end of a stake. But with ebbing and flowing eternity as their reward for taking that ultimate plunge…

He saw it all in her eyes in that moment. And then Parker, wanna-be playboy, self-proclaimed lady’s man, and inadequate human being, finally saw how unworthy he was. He gasped in amazement that this creature would even dance with him, that such a being should deign to let him touch her.

“You yearn for the hunt,” she whispered in his ear, pulling him in close. “I can feel it.”

He nodded numbly, hypnotized by the promises in her eyes.

“I can smell your victims on you. Cold sweat and sex,” she purred against his throat. “You tried to wash them off…”

“Y-You shouldn’t be able to smell…” He brought up one feeble protest, shamed at being found out so easily.

“Shh,” she soothed. “In my world, human abstinence is trivial.”

He shivered. “Sounds wonderful.”

“It is,” she agreed. “And I seek another hunter, another to move by my side…”

“Yes…”

He frowned, belatedly realizing they’d left the dance-floor. Left the club entirely, actually, and were walking through twisted alleys. Her hand clasped him like a steel chain, impossible to break free and guiding him ever onward. Toward death and life anew.

He went eagerly.

“Do you wish to share the hunt?” she asked, coming to halt in a cavern deep beneath the city. A chimera of subways and alleyways, sewers and burned out buildings. The vampire center of town.

“Yes…”

And then she changed before him, hideous and wondrous all at once, eyes of pure gold and white ivory fangs. With one clawed hand, she slashed at her opposite wrist, held the bloody gashes before his eyes.

“Drink.”

And he drank. Cried out and choked on blood as razor-sharp fangs pierced his throat, tore into the core of his being and ripped him to shreds. He felt something dark and mysterious flit at the corners of his mind before it all faded…

Buffy watched Parker die in her arms, lifted him easily and left him to rest on one of the old beat-up couches that circled the large clan chamber. Two fledglings who were just coming in from their own night hunting gave her curious looks.

“What?” she commented huffily, sitting guard over her new childe.

They gave her apologetic smiles and went off of their own ways. Never wise to piss off one of the most powerful master vampires in the city.

And Buffy sighed, doubt settling in as she studied the young man she’d chosen. Attractive enough, probably well-skilled in bed, and with an edge most humans lacked. He was no Spike, though.

She shook the notion off, steeling her resolve once more. _We’ll show Spike who knows how to adapt_ , she insisted sullenly.


	3. Chapter 3

“…Well, that was just the first slayer I did in, y’know,” Spike purred, taking another swig of his beer. “Mostly luck, that one was. Got a good long drink of her, though. Made the danger more than worth it.”

“How did she taste?” asked the brunette who’d sidled up next to him flirtatiously.

He leaned in close, whispered in her ear seductively. “Like heaven…”

She giggled at that, and her hand slid into his lap, traveling slowly up the length of his thigh. The Japanese vampiress on his other side scowled at the other’s advances and leaned in to nip at his shoulder.

Grinning, he turned back to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Care to hear about slayer number two, luv?”

“Oh yes,” she agreed, eyes flashing gold with excitement.

“No.”

The third female voice caught him completely by surprise. He spun around, shock and then recognition on his face.

“This is a _private_ conversation,” the brunette vampiress stood up, trying to look tough despite her hot pink dress.

The intruder just gave her a look of disbelief and then, before the younger demoness even had time to react, plunged one of the wooden chopsticks from the table into the brunette’s chest. The first female hadn’t even fully collapsed into dust before the intruder turned to the Japanese woman curled up against Spike’s side in sudden fear.

“Bye-bye,” she smiled sweetly, waving for the other woman to leave. She fled in an instant.

“Din’t expect to see you again so so—” Spike’s rant was cut short when the newcomer caught him roughly by the scuff of the neck, forced him down onto his knees before her, and pulled up her short skirt just enough for him to slip his head beneath.

“ _Mine_ ,” she hissed vehemently.

“In front of the whole club?” Spike exclaimed in disbelief.

Unwavering eyes were his response, and he shrugged, setting about his task. No panties – the naughty girl – so his lips and tongue had easy access to her core. He lapped at her pleasure center, humming against her clit, tongue piercing deep into her womb.

She came hard and fast, but then this hadn’t been about lingering pleasure. It was about showing every single vampire and demon in this club that they didn’t stand a chance with him as long as she was there to make her claim. Her fingers trailed lightly in his dark hair, stroking his curls as he rested his head against her stomach and purred.

“Missed you, luv.”

And Drusilla smiled and pulled him up to his feet. “Mommy missed her sweet Spike, too,” she cooed, leaning in to lick her juices from his face and mouth.

He pulled out the chair the Japanese girl had vacated and helped Dru sit down before taking his own seat once more. “Been quite a while,” he commented casually, taking another sip of his beer.

“Mmm…” she agreed. “So much play.”

He chuckled at that. “Seem to have a bit of an objection to me playin’, though,” he teased.

She gave him a dark smile at that. “ _My_ turn to play tonight,” she tisked.

“Your turn whenever you want it,” he assured her with a little purr, resting his forehead on her shoulder for one quick second. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the heady scent of sire. It was the smell of home, of belonging, of peace from his long journeys at last…

“Would my sweet have dinner with me?” Dru suggested, stroking his hair affectionately. Oh, she’d missed him, indeed. The longer she walked this world, the more she realized how truly unique it was to find someone who understood her, accepted her, bouts of madness and all. “I feel like a taste of Greece,” she teased.

He chuckled at that, rose and took her arm in a very gentlemanly gesture. “Milady,” he teased back.

She giggled, throwing her head back and letting her dark hair fall around her. Oh, he was a treasure for the ages. Arm in arm, they walked from the demon club, paying no attention to the curious looks they drew. If they couldn’t comprehend that two Victorian vampires had just had oral sex right in the middle of the club and were now headed off to feast upon the vibrant population of Athens, then Drusilla pitied their limited worlds.

And, just occasionally, she acknowledged that her unlife was a bit surreal. Even without the flames and torches whispering their dark secrets to her.

“Our golden girl’s scent has faded on you,” she commented, strolling through the warm night, her mate’s hand clasped in hers as they began the hunt.

“We split up in Salzburg,” he answered, voice tight.

 _Not a happy goodbye, then…_ Drusilla puzzled. “Seeds of regret flower and bear sweet fruit. All around your head…”

He shook his head. A woman only a poet could understand. “Got dragged back to the dear old family estate. Imagine that’s why you’re here, too.”

“Mmm-hmm…” She wasn’t listening to him now, however. She was hearing a pulse, a breath, an unlife. Hundreds of miles away, yet so close she felt like she could smell his sweat against her skin. For a second, she feared the delusions had finally overtaken her, that the line of madness and sanity had blurred beyond her recognition. “Do you feel that?” she whispered, face ashen as she clutched his arm tightly.

“I feel it,” he quickly assured her, pulling her closer and slipping his arm around her waist. “Seems Buffy’s picked herself a new plaything.”

There was an edge to his voice that indicated he was of mixed opinion about this development. “You suspected?” Dru guessed.

“You’re the psychic,” he shrugged.

“Hmm…” Drusilla’s demonic gaze turned down a long, dark alley. Spotted a human foolish enough to take a shortcut. “Don’t they warn their children about the stroke of midnight?” she asked rhetorically.

Spike grinned. “Dinner is served,” he agreed, following her down the dark corridor…

* * *

Buffy had slipped out at sunset to get a quick bite to eat. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised to find Parker still seemingly dead when she returned, but it did try her patience. Despite the dozens of inconsequential fledglings she’d turned in the past, she was beginning to worry that she’d done something wrong this time. A childe would be quite different from the other vampires she’d made, not just another hunter to throw out on their own into the night.

Thankfully, a thin thread of some deeper awareness let her know only too well that his demon was still settling and would awaken soon enough.

Fortunately, the underground hub was a meeting place for demons of all sorts. None were foolish enough to take on a vampiress as powerful as she was, so she didn’t have to worry about attacks. It allowed her to relax, sit back, and pick up some of the underground rumors that the recent battle had brought to light.

“I got a v-mail from two of my pod-mates down in Istanbul,” one of the Chaos Demons that made up their little circle of gossip announced. “The Aurelians and the Dareians are at it. Again.”

“Any news on who the big fatality was?” Buffy inquired with a flirtatious little smile. It never hurt to bat her eyelashes and play the pretty little girl when she wanted information.

“I heard it was Heinrich,” one fledgling popped up.

Buffy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “He’s been dead for over a century,” she informed him.

His demonic ridges furrowed into a frown. “Really?”

“I should know. I was the one that killed him.” She gave him a condescending little pat on the cheek.

“No, it was the Aurelians’ new leader,” a vampiress of about sixty, and with significantly more experience, explained. “He called himself ‘The Dark Lord’.”

There were a few snickers at that.

“I heard a rumor once that he was Red Eric,” Buffy added her two cents.

“Heinrich’s old sibling rival?” the Chaos Demon asked curiously.

She nodded. “With Heinrich’s line away from home, he snatched the Order for himself.”

“Aren’t you from Heinrich’s line?” a Beval Demon asked curiously.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “My family has better things to do that get killed by some other stodgy old Order.”

“They say the Dareians took it just as hard,” the Chaos Demon pointed out. “Lady Beatrice?” He made a slitting motion. Only at the base of his antlers instead of at his throat. Everyone knew what he meant, though.

“At least that should quiet down their war for a while,” the other vampiress commented. “I’ve been avoiding the whole Middle East for decades, just because it’s not worth getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Any word on who’s going to take The Dark Lord’s place?” the Beval asked Buffy.

She shrugged. “I don’t really follow that sort of thing. Apparently, no one’s bothered to tell the Orders that no one cares about their archaic crap anymore.”

A few frowns until they figured it must be some form of Old American slang.

“I heard someone say Drusilla’s one of the oldest vamps available for the job.” Apparently, the Beval was quite a gossip.

Buffy frowned at that. It was certainly the first time she’d heard any such thing. But then Spike had always kept their little family away from the Order’s affairs. As much as he could, anyway…

“I wouldn’t know,” she said simply.

The Beval obviously had more questions, but Parker chose that moment to stir. Already Buffy loved his timing.

“Unless any of you want to be our hunt for the night…” She waved them off with one hand. It was funny how fast they scurried. Just enough power to be feared on the streets, not enough that the Order couldn’t play games with her sire. She hated them for that so very much, but now wasn’t the time.

Another gasp escaped Parker’s lips, and with it his facial bones twisted into brow ridges. Fangs extended, pierced his lower lip and caused him to wince and touch his mouth at the sharp pain. A common mistake recently-turned vampires made.

Feral gold eyes scanned the atrium, the pull of blood more powerful that anything in the world in these first few days.

Well, almost anything.

“C’mon.” Buffy held out one hand to him. “I’ve found us the perfect place to hunt.”

He followed after her, rubbing his brow ridges affectionately against the back of her hand. “Sire…”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. What were the first words Spike had said to her? “Morning, luv,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his brow. Then, she led him through the tunnels, pulling along at first but then running.

A delighted smile curved his lips as they pushed their bodies past any human’s endurance. Dank corridors flew by, giving way to alleyways, and finally to rows of trees. A nice little park at midnight. The perfect place to show a new vampire the ropes.

“I’m hungry,” he complained, nose buried against her throat.

Buffy’s first meal had been her sire, she remembered only too well. But whispers had been travelling through the demon world last night. The slayer had made a kill in the area. That snotty little girl had followed her from Salzburg, no doubt. She probably should have been concerned, but the demon population in Vienna was booming. It was unlikely the slayer would find her anytime soon. Still, it was best not to let herself be weakened in case of attack.

The difficulty turned out to be moot, however. Only a few minutes of winding through the dark lines of trees, and they stumbled across a nervous young woman. A pretty blonde who glanced around furtively, clutched her purse tightly, and obviously knew that this wasn’t the best time to be wandering around by herself.

Buffy’s hand clenched over Parker’s in warning as they walked leisurely down the path toward her. He seemed to sense the meaning behind her gesture, read words not spoken. Her hand came up to smooth the lines of his brow, and his face shifted beneath her fingertips. Dark, innocent, doe-eyes. Oh, he’d make an excellent hunter, indeed.

Their blonde victim looked ever nervous as she watched their approach, but then breathed an audible sigh of relief. After all, two well-dressed young people holding hands weren’t usually a threat, now were they?

Parker gave her that winning smile as they approached, and she smiled back nervously.

“Do you speak French?” she asked in shaky German.

“ _Oui_ ,” he purred back.

Her cheeks flushed when he gave her that smile again. Buffy just stood back to make sure things didn’t go awry.

“Thank god,” the blonde switched over to French instantly. “I’m lost, and I don’t speak German well. These maps…” She waved one in frustration and sighed.

“Everything looks different at night,” Parker responded in fluent French. There were times when it was good to be Canadian.

She giggled at that, feeling quite comfortable now. “My hotel is…here,” she pointed, drawing closer to him so that he could see the map. 

Buffy was sure the innuendo was unintentional, but she couldn’t help but shake her head at this girl’s innocence. Every so often Spike would take up hunting innocent young virgins. He was a man, after all. Buffy and Drusilla had always preferred different prey. Buffy’s own preference was still the incredibly stupid – which this girl seemed to be – but also the stupid who went out looking for trouble. They’d driven her crazy both as a human and a vampire. There was nothing more satisfying than that moment when their eyes lit up in realization that their carelessness finally _had_ gotten them killed. Made their blood that much sweeter…

Parker seemed to like the innocent blonde as prey, however. He was a natural at luring her in. Buffy figured what he was doing wasn’t much different than his act as a human. The more things change…

“I’ve gotten turned around, too, now,” he laughed, hand brushing hers on the map flirtatiously.

She giggled and tried to figure it out again.

He looked up when her gaze was away, seeking approval from Buffy. She just shook her head and gestured for him to finish it.

The blonde didn’t even know what hit her. His strike was quick, but inevitably messy. Despite his apparent love for the seduction, he was still a newly-born fledgling half blinded by bloodlust, after all.

Buffy stepped into the circle of the street lamp once more as the girl breathed her last breath. She bit the girl’s wrist and took just a sip of her blood, demonstrating to him how to pierce human flesh cleanly. 

He tried to mimic her bite on the other side of the girl’s throat. Cleaner this time, but still too shallow to be perfectly efficient. He’d learn in time, however.

“How was I?” he purred against her hair when he was done.

“A natural born predator,” Buffy assured him, licking the trickle of blood from the corner of his lips.

His body hardened against her in response, and his hand slipped between them to cup her breast. “Buffy…” he breathed in wanton desire.

Her own body heated at her childe’s touch, but in the back of her mind she felt something else. Something strong and dangerous approaching. A warning, a… “Slayer.”

She pulled away from his fervent kisses despite his moan of protest.

“Not here,” she insisted, sniffing the night air. The thin scent of the predator’s predator wafted to her. “Back home.”

He groaned in protest, but followed her nonetheless, not quite sure what at the fuss was about. After all, one human girl couldn’t possibly be a threat to them. The night and all its riches were _theirs_ for the taking. No human could put an end to that, no matter what his sire told him. Although, as she told him of the slayer’s strength and battle prowess, he couldn’t help but wonder what such a girl would taste like beneath him, as he sunk both fangs and cock into her.

But, in the meantime, his sire was more pleasurable than he ever could have dreamed…

* * *

Kennedy found the girl’s body on the park path at half past midnight. Three bite marks: two male, one female. The male on the right side of the throat looked like a dog had ripped at the flesh. The left side was neater. She measured. Both the same size. A fledgling, perhaps? Perfecting his bite…

The female marks were much more interesting. Six perfect circular holes in the woman’s left wrist. Two for the fangs, and four for the secondary fang ridges. The secondary ridges were long and sharp to pierce this neatly. Half-moon marks were generally more characteristic of vampire bites. At least, of younger vamps.

Which meant Kennedy had a master on her hands. A female master with a male fledgling in tow. A childe?

In any case, if Kennedy’s information was at all accurate, there was only one master in Vienna that fit the bill. She’d found that rogue vamped-slayer. Her hunt was getting close.

Little did she know how close, since she’d only missed the vampire pair by five minutes…

* * *

Drusilla gasped as the vision faded, her mind returning to her body with a startling jolt. Strong arms caught her from behind, holding her gently.

“You all right, pet?” Spike murmured in concern.

“The slayer stalks our slayer…” she replied dreamily, still shaking off the effects of the brief glimpse she’d been granted.

He tensed for a moment, but then relaxed. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “We were hunting her down before…”

With a shake of her head, Dru turned in his arms. The blood she’d just consumed filled her with new life, and she wanted nothing more than to celebrate the rest of the night away. “Naughty family, seeking trouble where they know they’ll find it…” she tisked.

“Buffy can take care of herself,” Spike retorted confidently. There was a part of him that still wanted to rush to her rescue, but she was a grown vamp now. “Taught her everything I know. If she can’t kick the slayer…” He trailed off.

“Then she wasn’t meant to be,” Drusilla concluded with a sad smile. And then, abruptly, cheer filled her at rediscovering her long-lost lover once more. “William, William,” she sang into the night, taking him by the hands and pulling him along with her. “Let’s dance the night away…”

And he couldn’t help but laugh at her sudden gaiety. Nothing like a mercurial mood-shift to wash your troubles away. “Anythin’ you want, pet,” he assured her.

“Anything?” She let out a deranged little giggle. “Oh, but I want the world, my love.”

“Then you’ll have it,” he promised as they danced away into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re getting closer,” Kennedy’s watcher promised her.

Kennedy remained skeptical. “The master I’ve been tracking has a new childe…”

“Quite,” he reassured her. “The oracles I’ve consulted indicated the fallen slayer would act such in the final confrontation.”

“Final confrontation?” Kennedy repeated skeptically, loading the crossbow and flicking on the safety before she slung it over her back.

“All prophecies indicate that this will be the last battle between William the Bloody’s family and the Watcher’s Council. It seems to me that bodes quite well for you,” he insisted huffily.

“Unless they kill us all,” she countered realistically.

“Some optimism, please.”

She sighed. “Right. Off to hunt again…”

* * *

Buffy kept alert, eyes darting nervously about the nightclub. Three days now, she’d sensed the slayer nearby. The girl was after _her_ specifically, it seemed.

Which, in part, was good. It meant she had struck a nerve. That extra edge she’d need to win the greatest of all battles…

Unfortunately, she had a childe in tow. Buffy was beginning to understand why one wouldn’t want to turn a slayer. That action in itself would automatically set the new girl after you, all while you’re trying to defend a newly-risen vampire.

Wincing, Buffy could remember instances from her own childhood when she’d been just as reckless as Parker was now. Her respect for Spike – and his amazing ability to keep her alive – was increasing every day. Especially since the girl Parker was currently dancing with seemed to have caught the eye of an older male – in his seventies, Buffy would guess. Of course, her childe continued to dance merrily without a clue as to the danger that was sneaking up on him from behind…

Buffy caught the vamp by the scruff of his neck, spun him around to face her. “Ah, ah, ah,” she tisked.

He gulped when he realized what he’d gotten into. “I-I didn’t know,” he insisted hastily.

Buffy just smiled sweetly.

“My mistake. _Big_ mistake. I’ll just…go elsewhere, and… Yeah. Bye.”

Buffy let him go, amused as he tripped over his own feet on the way out of the club. Oh yes, unlife just kept getting better…

She caught Parker’s confused look over his dance partner’s shoulder, but she just gave him a reassuring smile. If this was the biggest trouble he got himself into, he’d be the luckiest vamp on the face of the earth. At least _he_ hadn’t decided to challenge a two-hundred-plus vampire – and her great-grandsire, to boot – on his first day. Ah, the naivete of youth…

Parker whispered something in his ‘date’s ear, and the brunette giggled and smiled. Nodded shyly, and let him lead her off into the back.

Buffy let them go – she had no doubt her childe had the girl wrapped around his little finger – and turned to find a meal of her own for the night. The smell of human sweat was almost overwhelming, and it reminded her how very hungry she was. First dance offer, then.

He wasn’t her usual prey. Shy, meek, a bit nerdy. He’d obviously been nervous and insecure when he’d asked her. A part of Buffy really didn’t particularly want to see him dead, but it was best not to leave Parker alone for too long in these early days.

So, she accepted his offer. Led him almost immediately out back. Apologized right before she sank her fangs into him.

He was frightened, but he wasn’t the sort who _deserved_ to be frightened out of his wits. It was a most unsatisfactory kill. But his blood warmed her body, gave her strength. Ah well, his survival instinct obviously hadn’t been that good, anyway. It would have been only a matter of time before a vampiress with a pension for the frail and timid had sunk her teeth into him. Dru, perhaps, if she’d been in town…

“OK, I can officially say that’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”

Buffy spun around in surprise, her senses belatedly blaring harsh warnings. She knew what she’d see behind her even before she’d fully turned. “Slayer,” she commented casually. “Hiya. How’s the whole doomed destiny thing going?”

Kennedy’s eyes narrowed, and she held out her stake in anticipation of the fight to come. “Not bad,” she retorted haughtily. “How’s the murderous bloodsucker business?”

Buffy shrugged. “Not so great pickings tonight. But the menu’s starting to look much tastier.” Her gaze raked up and down Kennedy’s body appreciatively.

Kennedy fought the urge to blush. “Like the taste of dust, do you?”

“No, but pretty slayer’s quite sweet from what I’ve heard.” Slowly, Buffy began to circle her foe.

In perfect counterpoint, Kennedy kept opposite her. “Unfortunately, pretty vampire’s not much more fun to dust.” Belatedly, she realized what she’d admitted. Felt properly mortified that she’d let out even that one detail about how she viewed this traitor.

Buffy grinned, took advantage of the opportunity given her, and struck.

Kennedy reeled backward as the vampiress’ foot hit her squarely across the jaw. Only a quick roll at the last minute saved her from being pinned to the ground. Her fist caught Buffy in the center of the back and downed the vampiress long enough for her to recover.

Buffy leapt back up to her feet and saw they were at the same standstill they’d had before. Ah well, small steps. Sooner or later she’d have this slayer’s blood.

Although circumstances seemed to be conspiring against today being that day.

“Are you done with—?” Parker inquired, stepping out into the back alley, lips still red with blood. He paused in surprise when he saw his sire in the middle of a fight. “What’s this?” he asked curiously, hungry gaze taking in Kennedy.

“The slayer,” Buffy informed him curtly. “Get back inside.”

 Rather than back off, Parker moved in closer, however. “You’re taking that pretty girl without me?” he asked with a bit of a pout.

Kennedy’s lip curled in disgust. “A chip off the old block, I see,” she said snidely.

Buffy growled at that. “Inside!” she snapped at Parker angrily.

He moved to protest, but her snarl sent him scurrying back toward the comparative safety of the club.

“I don’t see your old boyfriend anywhere,” Kennedy taunted her. “Don’t tell me William the Bloody gave you the axe.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Buffy insisted, hands clutched into enraged fists.

“Didn’t live up to daddy’s expectations?”

“Shut up!” Buffy struck out angrily, missed, and was sent tumbling into a pile of crates. Wood splinters shattered all around her. Thankfully, none of them hit anything vital.

A strong kick threw Kennedy back across the alley as the slayer moved in for the kill. Even Buffy took a moment of pride at how far her opponent flew. A century of power certainly had its advantages…

Kennedy was back on her feet in an instant, caught Buffy’s ankle with a low sweep on her foot. Fingers and nails clutching at throats, the two women grappled across the cold cement, struggling for the upper hand.

Buffy snarled, fangs bared, catching the flesh of the slayer’s arm. Kennedy pulled back, winced, and then responded with a powerful punch to the face. Shaken, Buffy fell back, clutching the sides of her head. Her vision came back in focus just in time to see the stake raised…

At the last moment, Kennedy let out a screech of surprise. She staggered back into the wall and elbowed the vampire on her back in the ribs as hard as she could.

Parker collapsed with a gasp and, seeing she was outnumbered and wounded, Kennedy fled while she still could. “Next time, _slayer_ ,” she shouted vengefully. She would be back, and this would finally end, no matter what happened…

Groaning at yet another failure, Buffy rose to her feet and wiped the blood from her chin. Fuck, that girl had been strong. Buffy only vaguely remembered her slayer days now, but the first thing that had struck her when she was turned was how comparatively weak vampires were. Of course, that had gotten better with age. But she was still willing to bet the slayer had more power behind her punches. Fortunately, Buffy had speed and experience on her side, or this battle would have been over before it started.

“You all right?” Buffy turned to Parker who seemed only to have taken the one hit.

He winced and staggered against her, hands on his ribs. “She’s strong…”

“Yup,” she sighed. “Looks like we’re gonna have to dispose of her if we want any peace too.”

He grinned. “Just let me at her,” he pleaded, batting long, dark lashes. “I can show her…” He breathed huskily. “…A _good_ time…”

Buffy shook her head. “This girl’s out of your league,” she informed him. “Leave her to me.”

Parker opened his mouth to protest. Dozens of women had fallen into his trap both before and after death, and adding the slayer, of all creatures, to his trophy case was too tempting to pass up. The tone of his sire’s voice stopped him from insisting, however.

Buffy gave him an approving smile and a quick kiss on the lips when he complied with her wishes. “Let’s go home,” she decided. “I’ve had enough for the night.”

Parker let it go and followed her home, one lingering thought still in mind. “She called you ‘slayer’…”

* * *

“I want it all, my William.”

Half-dozing in the aftermath of post-orgasmic bliss, it took Spike a moment or two to realize she had spoken. “Mmm?” he murmured, rolling over with great effort so that his head was pillowed between her breasts.

“It calls to me. Sweet whispers in the night. The scent of lilac, overwhelming, swirling around me in a rich mantle…” Drusilla sighed. “I want it.”

“Anythin’ my dark princess wants,” Spike promised fervently, although – frankly – he had no clue what she was going on about.

“Little boy’s not paying attention to his lesson,” Dru chided in a singsong voice.

With a sigh, he looked up at her. “What d’you want then, pet?” he asked. “And if ‘s another romp, you’ll hafta give me a few more minutes…”

“Insatiable,” she teased, stroking his dark hair. It was almost the same color as hers now, and she savored the feel of thick curls sliding through her fingers.

“Just the way you like me,” he purred in agreement.

Drusilla continued to play lightly with his hair for a while, felt him drift off into slumber once more as her touch soothed him. “I want the throne,” she finally announced, words and mind clear as day.

That woke him, caused him to frown. “Pet…” he began in warning.

“They would give it to me if I weren’t mad, I think,” she explained.

Propping himself up with one elbow, he resigned himself to having this conversation. “Yeah, so long as you fought your way through the endless petty bickerin’ and power plays.”

“So cynical.” She shook her head. “Our grandfather left us a legacy, my dearest…”

“Buffy offed grandpop, in case you’ve forgotten,” he retorted.

“Angelus would’ve fought for it.”

“Angelus had been dust for over a hundred bloody years!”

“Mmm…bloody, indeed…” She sat up, pulling him into her arms, rocking him slowly. Her pretty boy never had gotten it. “I want the power. I want them all to kneel before me…” She sighed. “My family…”

“You’ve got a family, Dru,” Spike tensed. “And we’re as far away from the soddin’ Order as we can get.”

“Why do you despise them so?” she asked curiously, nails tracing thin red lines down the smooth naked muscles of his back.

“Why do you adore them so?” he shot right back, even as he hissed in pain/pleasure.

“Contrary, stubborn boy,” she tisked.

He gulped. “You said you loved that about me once,” he ventured.

“Oh, my sweet poet.” She kissed his eyelids, reassuring him in his brief moment of insecurity. The mortals they’d once been never died. They were just buried deep, hidden away through shame and fear and loss. But every so often they’d rear their heads, and then they only had each other to turn to for comfort. “I do love you… So wild… Untamed, _raw_ …” She made a clawing motion with that last word, her lips curled into a feral grin.

He returned it eagerly, towering over her, pushing her back slowly onto the mattress beneath him. “Black mistress…”

“My cruel, cruel knight,” she purred in satisfaction. “Fight for me, my love. Bare your steel…”

“Naughty, naughty,” he chided her. One knee between her thighs forced her legs apart. He caught her ass cheeks roughly, pulled her up and around him. “Heaven and hell,” he gasped before piercing her womb.

She moaned and thrust against him, feeling her insides coil with knots of pleasure, just waiting to erupt. He was so deep and pure, her Spike. The perfect lover in so many ways…

Demonic visages came forth, fangs and claws tore at flesh, sunk in, piercing deep. One mind, one body, one demon.

They came together, still growling and tussling, limbs tangled into indecipherable knots. Gasping for breath and still trying to move closer together.

Drusilla held him, rocked him, whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Oh, she was his queen. She’d known that all along, known that he was her prince, as well. But the Golden Order called to her, offering her its riches.

She whispered her secret to William, watched him smile.

“Whatever my princess wants,” he promised fervently.

And, oh, she wanted, indeed…

* * *

With a final gasp of pleasure, they came, bodies moaning and shuddering. They collapsed together, twisted beneath the sheets, paused for a moment before Buffy finally rolled off of him.

“My sire,” Parker purred against her throat, sleepy with blood and sex.

Buffy’s fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck. All the little girls he played with – fucked and then killed – but she was the only one he’d ever keep coming back to. She could feel the chord that bound them when they were close like this, knew that no matter how far they strayed, it would always pull them back together one day.

And right now she was planning on straying into very dangerous territory…

“I’m going to kill her tomorrow night,” Buffy commented lazily, her relaxed tone belying the sharp mind that played behind sleepy eyes.

“The slayer kills a slayer,” Parker whispered in approval.

Buffy had been hesitant to share that little secret of her past with him. It was a life she’d fought so long to escape. So few remembered her dark secret now, and their lips were all sealed. But he had to learn sooner or later, just like Spike had ultimately had to make his confession to her. She wondered if it was something all sires dreaded…

His response had been rather delightfully… _vigorous_. She knew his brief encounter with the slayer had enamoured him of the breed. Really, it must seem like the ultimate challenge to him. An apex female predator for him to seduce, use, and destroy. All the more reason for her to get this girl off their backs as soon as possible.

“At least let me watch,” he pleaded. “Let me taste…”

Buffy remembered when she had made a similar demand of Spike. Just to watch Angel bleed his last drop. The battle that could’ve ended everything. “Too risky,” she apologized.

“But—”

She cut him off with a fingertip to his lips. “Mommy knows best,” she teased lightly.

He grinned. “Mommy knows how to make it hurt so good…” He nuzzled her throat. “I…” He trailed off, frowned.

“Mmm?” she inquired lazily, resting for the battle tomorrow would bring.

He just shook his head and lay down beside her, spooning against her back. “Nothing,” he sighed, sounding confused.

Buffy didn’t process that fact, however, as she drifted off. “If I’m gone in the evening, don’t wait up for me to feed.”

The beginnings of a plan forming in his own mind, he smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

And, together, they drifted off to sleep. Oh yes, tomorrow night would quite possibly be the biggest night of their unlives…

* * *

In a rare generous mood, Spike actually paid the pilot his fare and let him go unharmed to pick up another trans-Mediterranean ride. Drusilla’s hand in his and the Suq of Casablanca bustling with festivities in the hot night air, he felt as though he were king of the world.

“So very close now…” Drusilla commented, feeling the same sense of elation. “My hallowed halls soon at my fingertips…” She spun away from him in a little pirouette, dancing in time to the primal beating of drums that pounded the pulse of the night’s celebration.

“We’ll make the Order tremble at our feet, we will,” he assured her, following her through the endless delights the midnight marketplace had to offer. All about them, performers demonstrated amazing tricks, awing the human crowds. Wisely, no one tried to stop the vampire couple for money.

“A new moon rises,” Drusilla danced and sang. “Cold and pure and so very lovely. Do you see it, sweet Spike?”

“Beautiful creature,” he agreed, his gaze fixed on her.

“Tomorrow…” she whispered. “Tomorrow… Tomorrow…” Each cadence grew quieter, more mysterious.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, “we arrive.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I love you.”

Buffy stopped in surprise in the doorway. She’d been quite confident her childe was still happily sleeping away until that very moment. With a small smile, she turned back to look at him. “Oh?” she inquired with a little purr, stalking back over to their bed.

Parker frowned slightly, watching her approach with puzzled dark eyes. “I do,” he said, sounding oddly unsure of himself. Insecure.

Buffy crawled up the foot of the bed until she was hovering right over his naked body. “Love you, too,” she assured him, leaning it for a quick kiss.

It naturally turned passionate, and before she knew what was happening, he’d rolled her beneath him and snuck one clever hand down her pants. She’d always been the one to dominate him before, to ride him away into ecstasy. But this time he took charge, and she let him.

Skilled fingers unbuttoned her blouse. Talented lips and tongue trailed down her throat to her full breasts. He parted the black lace that bound them, whispering reverently against one mound. “I’ve never felt this way before…”

Buffy moaned in appreciation as he took her into his mouth, sucking slowly and luxuriantly. All those years of tricking innocent little girls into giving up their pearls had made him exquisitely talented in every act of sex.

“I… I can’t even describe it,” he confessed shakily, pulling at the zipper of her pants and neatly disrobing her. “So many…” He trailed off in thought as he watched her pant beneath him. “There have been so many, and I haven’t felt a thing for a single one of them…”

“We’re family,” Buffy explained to him, pulling him down to her for another kiss.

“Yes,” he agreed when they pulled apart. “You’re different. You’re…” He thrust in deep. “…Sire…” he moaned raggedly.

Buffy clutched his shoulders, pulling him in closer. “You don’t even know the half of it,” she whispered as he moved within her. “All the wonders you’ll experience…”

He smiled down at her, obvious adoration in his eyes.

“We’re a family of very _deep_ lovers,” she informed him with a wicked grin of her own.

His pace increased at that, as did hers. Almost as if true lovemaking were still frightening to him, something he’d have to be eased into over time. Buffy couldn’t wait to do so.

And, as she plunged over the edge, she thought for the first time that maybe Spike wasn’t the mate for her. She had a beautiful new man to share existence with now. Thousands of sweet delights to show him…

Pleasure blinding her in its drowning waves, she finally had an epiphany. She finally understood what Spike had been trying to tell her along.

This was her future, her fate. She was master now. She shouldn’t have to share her lovers, or anything else. She was the queen. And it was time she starting working towards creating her own kingdom…

“I love you.” He found the words easier to say with each utterance.

“Love you,” she murmured back, clutching his sweaty body to her.

For a moment, they lay like that, clinging together as if for dear life. And then, reluctantly, Buffy pushed him off of her, straightening her clothes to go out.

“Still after that tasty girl?” he teased lightly, feeling uncharacteristically playful. In a way, really caring for a woman was a huge relief, something tangible in his existence that he could cling to.

She laughed. “You sound just like your grandsire,” she informed him, placing one final quick kiss on his lips.

Parker couldn’t help but release a possessive growl at the thought that Buffy had another male in her life, one that she felt as strongly about as he did for her.

“You’ll have to meet him,” Buffy recognized the jealous spark in his eyes only too well. Oh, to see this path of unlife beginning anew. It brought her back to her own early years, that instinctive rivalry she’d felt with Dru. She’d have fun teaching him over the decades, showing him just how wonderful sharing could be… “Some day.”

He smiled at the reassurance that he’d have his sire to himself for quite some time. “Some day,” he conceded reluctantly.

“Mommy’s off to work now,” she joked lightly. “Don’t let the slayers bite.”

He grinned. “Shouldn’t you be the one worrying about that?”

“No need to worry,” she said confidently.

He smiled and watched her go. Laid back on the mattress, replaying their lovemaking in his mind until he’d felt that she was completely gone.

And then he pushed the covers aside and reached for his clothes. He would show her how good he could be for her, show her that he could live up to Spike’s reputation in every way. The grandest present of all would await his sire when she returned tonight.

Tousling his hair out of habit, as he had no mirror to work off of, Parker prepared himself for the night ahead. After all, he had himself a slayer to kill…

* * *

“Drusilla, darling!” a brash, scratchy voice cut through the gathered vampires. “Why, it’s simply been _ages_.”

“Oh god, kill me now,” Spike mumbled under his breath in fervent prayer.

“Play nice with the other puppies,” Drusilla scolded him with a forefinger to his lips.

He kissed it reverently. “Only for you, pet…”

“And, oh,” the voice instantly turned disappointed, “William. You’re still around, are you?”

“You know perfectly well that I am. _Gertrude_ ,” he retorted with _her_ human name.

“I see his disposition hasn’t improved much.” She scrunched up her nose in a haughty gesture and turned back to Dru. “Where _have_ you been?”

“My sweet Cassandra,” Drusilla purred, placing a quick kiss on the other vampiress’ cheek. A devilish grin crossed her face. “The plains of pleasure are ripe with fruit…”

“Er, yes.”

Spike rolled his eyes at the whole affair. ‘Cassandra’ was a vampiress of a little over three-hundred years. Which meant that everyone who had to make their daily survival in close quarters with her kept their mouths shut about her numerous flaws. Namely, that she looked, sounded, and acted like a horse. Spike had told her that once in an effort to escape the horror of discovering whether she fucked like a horse, too. She’d been trying to convince Dru, Darla, Angelus, and anyone else who would bloody well listen that he was a disrespectful degenerate ever since. A prime example of why he avoided the Order at all costs, right there.

“Well,” ‘Cassandra’ had recovered from her confusion at Drusilla’s remark and looped the other vampiress’ arm through hers, “we’ve simply been _dying_ for you to come. Although we hardly imagined you’d bring…” She coughed pointedly as she led Drusilla down the main hall and away from Spike. “…Company.”

Spike growled at stalked after them. That was it. This time he really _was_ going to rip that pretentious bitch’s heart right out and shove it down her throat.

Dru turned back at the last moment and gave him a warning glare.

With a growl of frustration, Spike reined in his temper. But just barely. He settled for making a very obscene gesture behind Cassandra’s back.

Several of the other Order masters that lined the Great Hallway took note of their most… _rebellious_ member’s disrespect. But, frankly, Spike didn’t give a damn what they all thought about him right now.

“The stars whisper of great things,” Cassandra commented, seemingly oblivious to the commotion Spike was causing behind her.

Spike was quite confident she was oblivious. ‘Cassandra’ was one of those vampires that lived solely on pretensions. She’d gotten it in her mind somewhere back in the 1850s that she wanted to be a psychic. The daft bird couldn’t see what was happening right in front of her, of course. But, as soon as she’d heard about Dru’s _real_ gifts, she’d taken it upon herself to strike up a bond with her ‘prophetic sister’. Spike had just about gagged.

“The Dark Lord has died,” Drusilla quirked one eyebrow at Cassandra in a very skeptical manner. “Of _course_ great things are coming.”

Spike couldn’t help but grin. That was his girl. Pointed out that the lowliest of fledglings could’ve predicted that one. Hell, _he_ could’ve, and he was a psychic dead-zone.

“Ah yes, but for whom?” Cassandra remained nonplussed.

“Oh, please,” Spike couldn’t help but tease her, “do tell.”

She turned and scowled at him. “You still court the nonbeliever,” she tisked, shaking her head slowly. “His other… _skills_ ,” her eyes raked up and down his body, “must be exceptional for you to tolerate this _common_ beast.”

Drusilla caught Spike in a tender embrace before he could rip Cassandra’s head clean off. “He has his uses,” she replied slyly. “Although you never found out about those, did you?”

It was a neat slap across the face. Spike loved Drusilla more than he ever had in his unlife for that one. All the more so because dear old Cassandra couldn’t get nasty without breaking rank with her ‘prophetic sister’. Overcome by sudden affection, Spike tilted Dru’s chin up to face him and planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

She purred against him and pulled him closer. He purred, too, for added effect. Cassandra sputtered in indignation. It was kind of beautiful.

“If you’ll excuse us.” Drusilla patted Cassandra lightly on the cheek before opening the door before them and entering the private chambers of their line.

Thankfully, the quirky rules of sire lineages meant that Cassandra couldn’t follow them inside. Spike took great delight in slamming the door right in the old biddy’s face.

Drusilla sighed as she watched him finally explode, taking his vengeance out on one of the silk sitting cushions that lined the common room. “Mommy will need her support, you know,” she informed him when his vicious kicks to the décor had finally died down.

He sighed and approached her, accepting his place in her arms. “Don’t want her challengin’ you, I s’pose,” he conceded.

“My poor sweeting,” she cooed. “Never one for politics or diplomacy…”

“Know enough to recognize enemies when I see ‘em,” he agreed, leading her by one hand to the bedroom they’d shared back when they’d last been here. Long time ago, he realized. Back when Angelus and Darla had still been kicking, and the four of them had been one happy little dysfunctional family.

The chambers were practically deserted now. Most of Heinrich’s line was dust now. And Buffy’d made a few of the more spectacular kills herself. He couldn’t help but puff up with pride at that. His clever little killer…

It was a disgrace, really, the way the Order snubbed their nose up at her. Hypocritical, too. All their fancy laws about the sins of the sire not being taken out on the childe, and look at they way they were treating one of the strongest new masters out there.

“Oh, my dear Spike…” Drusilla sighed, lying back on the bed amidst the lavish silk pillows and thin sheets. She stared up at the crimson canopy above. 

Frankly, the place had always reminded Spike a bit of a Turkish brothel. Heinrich hadn’t taken too fondly to Spike’s assessment. Bat-eared poofter.

“Wrath burns about you in a shinning inferno.” Dru held out one hand for him to join her on the bed.

A smile curving the corners of his lips, he went to her. “We could nick one of the posh vehicles out back and run off on a moonlit drive through the desert,” he offered hopefully.

“Mmm…burn me up…” she commented lazily.

With a sigh, he took his place beside her, allowing her caresses to soothe his temper. “I hate it here.”

“I know,” she apologized. “But the balance of power is shifting just right…” A sigh. “It could be mine, William,” she said, her voice clear and empty of all the layers of enigma. “It could be all mine…all _ours_ …”

“All yours,” he agreed, “but not mine, luv. Not ever.” A fiery vehemence burned in the backs of his eyes.

She bit her lip at the truth she saw there. “Mine alone, then,” she conceded, sounding disappointed.

“I’ll fight for you, my love,” he promised whole-heartedly.

“But you won’t stay and rule by my side.”

“’S not for me, pet.” He took her hand in his and planted a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Dru watched her beautiful boy with a wistful air. But, then, all things changed with time… “Of course, all this is rather silly if they decide to execute us the instant we walk out that door,” she considered, then giggled.

Spike found himself chuckling at that, too. “It’d be just like those cowards,” he agreed, laughing at the notion himself. Oh, the times when death was a joke…

One quick kiss, a moment to reflect, and they were off to the throne room to see what their visit would bring…

* * *

Buffy stretched her senses as far as they would go and still nothing. She frowned and turned south, leaping across rooftops as easily as if they were stepping-stones. The night was still young, of course, but the slayer had been almost a constant thorn in her side every night for over a week now. It was irritating that the one night Buffy _wanted_ to run into her, the little do-gooder was nowhere to be seen…

She dropped to the ground outside one of the old opera houses, extending her senses once more. And this time there was the slightest of tickles at the back of her neck. Still too faint for her to locate, but it was all the evidence she needed to know that the slayer was still somewhere in this city, waiting for death to arrive on her doorstep.

Picking the direction she thought the danger warning felt strongest, Buffy ran with catlike grace down the cobbled streets of the old foot-market. The hunt was finally on…

* * *

Kennedy’s slayer sense tingled as she entered the dance club. She was familiar with this presence by now, could practically taste it on her tongue. All around her, oblivious innocents danced, unaware of the more deadly dance they’d stumbled upon.

Kennedy made her way around the edge of the dance floor, eyes carefully assessing each and every face she could get a glimpse of. The lights and sounds were enough to disrupt even her senses. Her quarry was there, no doubt about it. She just wasn’t sure whether to look behind her or at the far end of the club.

“No date tonight, then?”

Behind her, it was. Kennedy turned to face the vampire, frowning when she realized he had a human victim supported carelessly in one arm. To the other denizens of the club, it probably looked at though the girl was just a little tipsy. Kennedy spotted the characteristic fang marks that weakened her just enough to be led off helplessly back to the demon’s lair, however.

“I was looking for Buffy, actually,” Kennedy retorted flippantly. “Although I seem to have made a little mistake. Is mommy coming back soon? I _hate_ babysitting…”

Parker’s eyes flashed gold at the insult. “She decided you weren’t worth the effort,” he retorted snidely. “But don’t worry. I know how to show a pretty girl a good time…” His eyes raked lasciviously up and down her body.

Kennedy’s stomach clenched in disgust, and she reached for the stake in her pocket.

“Not a good idea.” Parker shook his head and pulled his hostage harder against him, his deceptively blunt teeth just inches from her throat. He gave her a playful kiss where he’d bitten her earlier and got a moan in response. “It feels good, slayer. I promise.”

Kennedy bristled at the innuendo but stopped reaching for the stake. For now, that girl was alive, and it was her duty to keep her so, even if it did mean she had to placate this jerk for the time being. “Hiding behind humans?” she taunted. “Buffy teach you that? Or is that just a carryover cowardice from your human days?”

He took a step back, dragging the girl with him. “You wound me.” He blinked big puppy-dog eyes at her. “Deeply and tragically.”

“Cut the bull.” She moved to lunge again.

“I’ll cut _her_ ,” he countered, twisting the girl’s arm behind her back and causing her to whimper.

Kennedy glared but could do nothing. He took several more steps back, and she followed without provoking any retaliation on the hostage. He wanted her to follow him, then, and luckily he seemed to be leading their fight away from the crowds of innocent bystanders.

“That’s it,” he teased. “Do whatever I say… You’re _mine_ now.”

Kennedy let the rage build up inside her. Sooner or later, he was going to make a faulty step, and then she was going to unleash on him so fast he’d think he was in a tailspin.

“Never got your name, Junior,” she commented lightly.

He gave her a soft smile at that, all wide doe-eyes. Kennedy imagined plenty of girls had fallen for those deep eyes in the past. “Parker,” he informed her. “You?”

“Kennedy,” she shrugged. No reason not to tell him when one of them would be dead within the next five minutes.

“Kennedy…” The name rolled off his tongue nicely. “That’s pretty. You know, Kennedy, it must be awfully rough, running out to face death every night.”

“It’s a destiny,” she said noncommittally.

“I can understand, you know.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“M-My father… Well, he was sick for so long, and then when he finally died… I don’t think I ever got over it…”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she exclaimed in disbelief.

Parker rolled his eyes. “OK, so he’s off in Africa somewhere, touring with stepmom number six,” he conceded. “It’s just such a good line. You’re the first girl who’s seen through it.” He considered that for a second, smiling at the thought of his sire. “Well, the second…”

Kennedy opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment his backward steps faltered, and he tripped and went down. Instantly, she dove in, catching the girl he’d held prisoner and rolling with her free of the vampire’s clutches.

“Help me!” the hysterical girl sobbed, clinging to Kennedy’s arms.

“Just stay back!” Kennedy warned her, getting back up…

…Only to find Parker already behind her. “Oops. Didn’t trip at all,” he purred against her ear, arms snaking around her waist.

Kennedy stiffened, well aware that he could end her life in a second. The girl she’d saved took the opportunity to scamper away. Such nice gratitude this job brought…

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered huskily, his hand slipping further down.

Kennedy bit her lip, hand reaching for her front jacket pocket.

“You like that?” he demanded.

“Actually,” her fingers circled her prize, “no.” With lightning-quick reflexes, she smashed the bottle of holy water on his forehead and spun around, sweeping his legs out from under him with a powerful kick.

He hissed and screeched, clawing at his burning face, falling back onto the floor of the deserted corridor.

“Something you probably should’ve researched,” Kennedy replied flippantly. “Men? Don’t do a damn thing for me…” She produced the stake from her back pocket, caught him roughly by the shoulder, and drove the point home.

One last indignant gasp, and Parker crumbled to ash and dust.

“No!”

* * *

“No!”

“Oh, fuck!” Spike caught Drusilla as she faltered in her steps, the pain flashing through his own synapses. Somewhere far away, one of their own had just met their end. It was a sharp sting, a sudden break in the line of blood passed down through the ages. For a second he couldn’t pinpoint the source, and horrific visions flashed through his mind. _Buffy…_

“Poor, poor boy,” Dru whimpered. “Not even a chance to explore such delicious potential.” Her eyes flashed gold with rage. “That girl will pay for this…”

* * *

“You’ll pay for this, bitch!”

Kennedy turned to see the source of the cry and gulped. She should’ve sensed the approach of a vampire this powerful, but in the fight she’d allowed her alertness to waver. Not a good sign.

Demon fully to the front with rage and grief, Buffy’s eyes flashed deadly gold, inhuman claws extended to their maximum, eager to slice, superhuman muscles rippling in anticipation of the kill.

Kennedy calmly pulled her extra stake from her back pocket, both hands armed now. “Like childe, like sire,” she retorted haughtily.

And, blood battle to death, they rushed at each other…


	6. Chapter 6

A clash sounded throughout the street as the two opponents came together in an enraged blur of fists and claws. Buffy felt the stolen blood burning in her veins, working its will. She’d never felt this rush before. Blows were flying almost faster than the eye could see. It was all instinct, raw gut and speed and a century’s experience.

She felt a cut open up on her arm. The slayer had picked up a broken shard of wood somewhere along the way. Her conscious mind hadn’t even registered the weapon until she felt the pain. Her unconscious mind, however, had worked around the stake, moved her body in the proper defensive patterns without her even realizing it.

In a way, it was like she wasn’t thinking at all. There were brief seconds in which she recognized that this was the fight of her life, in which she catalogued little, insignificant details. But, for the most part, it was the demon within her, raging free and wild for the first time in what felt like forever. Her opponent’s quick and easy death wasn’t going to cut this battle short. Oh no, this would be one for the ages…

And, dimly, in the back of her mind, some memory stirred to life. A sense of déjà vu. She’d done this before, fought like this before. She didn’t reflect on her human days much anymore. Especially not her slayer days. Those were so many lifetimes ago that they could have been another existence. Thinking about them almost reminded her of some half-forgotten movie she’d seen years ago. It was something she’d witnessed, but not a part of who she was anymore. She remembered having the same feeling right after she’d been turned. _That_ memory was alive and vivid. Her first night with Spike, the taste of his blood on her lips, the feel of him moving within her…

But she _had_ been the slayer once, just like this girl she was fighting now. She had once possessed this girl’s power, the instinctive drive to battle that it had taken her vampire self decades to fully recover. She remembered the strength, the confidence, and that ever-persistent shadow of doom. She’d known it all, and now she was beyond it…

Kennedy leapt back out of the fray, panting for breath. Just one quick moment to recover before she plunged back in. Her slayer senses were screaming at her in warning and, for the first time, she wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

There was a strange sense of mutual knowledge to their battle. Like Buffy knew her every move, just as she knew the vampiress’. Her blood pounded through her veins, more alive than she’d ever felt it before. This was the Slayer within, without bounds or shackles. Almost without Kennedy herself.

“Can you feel it?” Buffy asked, surprising Kennedy by not lunging despite her opponent’s obvious fatigue.

“Feel what?” Kennedy demanded, puzzled, circling warily now.

“The demon within you,” Buffy answered simply. “Can you hear it screaming for my blood? My ashes?”

Kennedy frowned. “I’m the Slayer, not a demon.”

Buffy tisked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” she taunted, closing in. Three quick blows back and forth, parried on both sides. “The slayer within you… It _hungers_ for my kind’s blood.”

Kennedy’s eyes flashed and second before her heel struck out. Buffy had all the time in the world to avoid it.

“The Slayer,” Kennedy insisted primly, “hungers for right, for good. So, yeah.” A sweeping kick knocked Buffy’s feet out from under her. “For your death.”

Buffy laughed and twisted in mid-air to escape the fall in a neat back flip. She could almost hear a beat to their battle in the thrumming of the slayer’s veins. A dance macabre. Beautiful, elegant, and fatal.

 _Thu-thump. Thu-thump._

And then she began to realize that it wasn’t just the slayer’s heart that was playing time to this millennia-old struggle. The heavens themselves kept the beat. First, with the slow, steady pitter-patter of raindrops. But quickly it rose to a cacophony. A flood of thunder and lightning and rage…

Dark hair clinging to their faces, water streaming down their cheeks like tears, they fought once more. Limbs striking, counterstriking in a frenzied beat. Buffy pulled an old dagger from the sheath in her boot, using it to block the strikes of the slayer’s stake, slowly whittling away the wood one blow at a time.

Kennedy realized her weapon was going and distracted the vampiress with a strong high kick. The move disarmed Buffy and separated them for a few seconds, and that was all Kennedy needed to lunge for the crossbow she’d dropped earlier.

Buffy spotted the weapon just in time and dove after the slayer. They landed together on the hard cobbled street, hands clutching at each other’s throats as they rolled through puddles. Above them, the sky wept in anticipation of the death of a warrior.

Lightning flashed, momentarily blinding them both. Kennedy’s wrist shot out at the opportunity, and her fingers closed around the crossbow’s handle. She pulled it up, as fast as the lightning itself, finger on the trigger.

Buffy’s demon eyes took longer to adjust in the light-blindness. But her vision recovered just in time to see the slayer’s move. Her hand caught the slayer’s wrist reflexively, holding the deadly wooden bolt safely away from her heart.

Locked like that, slayer eyes met demon, each fiercely determined to win. The power within them both swelled up in a battle of pure strength.

Buffy bit back the pain as her arm strained, fractured, but did not give. The slayer’s strength was ripping her apart, but her demon could take any amount of pain. And she would _not_ give up. Not when she had a childe to avenge…

Kennedy felt the vampire’s strength waning, and grinned in anticipation of her victory. “For all those helpless girls you unleashed that monster on,” she whispered so softly only Buffy’s vampire hearing allowed her to pick the words out of the pouring rain.

Buffy’s fangs flashed at that, but those words also filled her with a strange calm. Almost as if time itself were slowing down, and she had eternity to plan her strategy…

“Jealous?” She grinned, and her demonic features faded away. She licked the raindrop dangling from her upper lip seductively. “I didn’t know you cared…”

A gasp of outrage escaped Kennedy’s lips, and in that split-second, so quickly Kennedy could only see a blur, Buffy released the slayer’s wrist and caught the stock of the crossbow. One powerful crush, and the weapon shattered to worthless bits and pieces.

“So much more fun without the weapons,” Buffy teased, grinding her hips down over Kennedy’s.

The slayer went for her throat, fury burning black in her eyes. And perhaps just a little bit of disgusted desire, as well. Buffy leapt back from the clawing hands so far gone that the girl would’ve ripped her head clean off if she’d been given the chance.

With supernatural grace, Buffy rose to her feet once more. The lacerations to her face and arm felt numb. The broken bones in her hand faded away to nothing. Her demon was ready, aware, and alert. But still buried just beneath the surface. Her face remained human as she faced her foe, and the power that flooded her wasn’t demonic. It was her, Buffy realized. The whole of her experiences and life. Human, slayer, fledgling, childe…

Master.

Kennedy lunged. Powerful blows designed to crumble bones and fracture flesh. Intricate combinations of kicks and punches, complex and varied, yet patterned all at once.

Buffy watched the slayer’s moves, and this time she wasn’t just able to keep apace with them. She moved before the blows were even struck. It was as if she knew what the slayer would do before the girl herself knew.

“You’re going to die tonight,” Buffy commented, and it wasn’t arrogance. It was simple truth. 

Kennedy was giving all she had, but it seemed to Buffy as if she were moving in slow motion. So simple to move to the side, to escape each hit. Buffy had been dimly aware in the past that this was the one advantage vampires held over their hunters. Vampires weren’t the strongest demons or the quickest healing, but they were the fastest. It had seemed like a small consolation in the past; now, Buffy realized it was everything.

“You’re a traitor!” Kennedy spat, the slayer fury burning brighter with each hit that missed. But more of the slayer wasn’t helping her; it didn’t matter how much more powerful her blows were if Buffy was too fast for them to hit.

“I survived,” Buffy insisted. “It’s more than any other slayer has dreamed of.”

“You betrayed your Calling and all those that came before and after you,” Kennedy accused. She struck out with her fist once more and missed Buffy’s head, but shattered the lamppost behind her. The light fell to the ground, spraying sparks just like the thunder above, and both women leapt out of range.

“Too tried, too predictable,” Buffy tisked, dodging two more blows before landing two punches squarely to the slayer’s face. The girl barely reeled, but Buffy knew they had to have hurt. This wasn’t about power, but slowly whittling away the human’s defenses, her will to win… “You wondering right now how I’m beating you?” she inquired conversationally.

“Over-confidence?” Kennedy sneered. Her high kick also didn’t make contact, however.

Buffy caught her fist on the next strike. “Because they’ve trained the life out of you,” she countered. “They got you young, snatched your life away, and left you with nothing but certain death. I should know; they did the same to me.”

“I’ve made sacrifices for the greater good,” Kennedy said, her voice sounding uncertain at first but gaining confidence.

“You’ve betrayed _yourself_ and the life you could’ve led,” Buffy insisted. “There’s a way to win it back, you know. A way the watchers never thought a slayer would take, especially after all of that ‘sacred duty’ brainwashing.”

Kennedy’s lip curled. “I’d rather die a Slayer!”

Buffy sighed. “Well, then the only question is: Which vampire is going to do you in?”

More punches, more dodges. Buffy almost felt like she was teasing the girl now. Moving in just close enough, and then slipping to the side before the slayer could throw another blow. It almost seemed unfair. Funny how not weeks ago a battle not unlike this one had seemed difficult. Just one small realization of how to grow into her power, and the world was hers…

Above her, the clouds thundered in agreement.

Buffy began to return punches and kicks, diving in fast for the strike and then leaping back out of harm’s way in time for the riposte. The slayer recovered from each hit, seemingly unharmed. But Buffy saw that look in her eyes, the way death filled them more and more with each passing second.

“You took my childe.” Buffy’s voice broke on the words, and for a second – when her emotions overcame her – that soft, slow world she fought in faded around her, and she was amidst the speed and the punches and the rain once more. The slayer’s heartbeat was frantic now.

 _Th-Thump-Th-Thump-Th-Thump-Th-Thump…_

“He was a monster, just like you.”

“He was a part of me,” Buffy countered, “in a way you’ll never know…” Sadness tinged her voice at that, but it was a calm sadness. And she wasn’t even quite sure who it was for. For Parker, cut off just when unlife offered eternal bounty? Or for this slayer, whose blindness had cursed her to a miserable life and an even more miserable death? “The secret to survival in this business is ingenuity. Originality, innovation, inspiration. It’s something the watchers can never teach you. You just have to love _life_ enough to care…”

“My Watcher taught me everything I need to know about your kind,” Kennedy insisted. Black shadows haunted her eyes. Yes, her watcher had taught her only too well. Death had been within her for so long, she didn’t even see it as an enemy anymore.

Buffy watched her final attack, felt the world slow back down as she regained her focus on the fight. The raindrops slowed their descent, and the slayer’s heart thumped a deep, steady rhythm.

 _Thu-Thump. Pause. Thu-Thump._

Buffy caught Kennedy’s wrist on the downbeat and twisted. The slayer crashed into the alley wall, pinned by the other woman’s body. Her body tensed for one second, then relaxed. This was it…

“There’s another way,” Buffy suggested.

“No,” Kennedy insisted, “there isn’t.”

They were her last words. Buffy’s fangs sunk deep as the rain poured down around them and the world itself collapsed. Rich, vibrant life flowed into Buffy’s body, and she drank it down greedily. Claimed what the slayer gave up foolishly, and reveled in her own life renewed. She tasted power and death in the slayer’s blood. Tasted the fate she’d escaped, and her victory was so delicious…

 _Th-Thump…_

 _Thu…_

 _Thummmmp._

 _Thu._

And, with that last gasp, Kennedy was no more. And Buffy was left alone once more to ponder what she’d lost and won that night…

* * *

“Oh, bugger.”

“Mustn’t speak so to the queen,” Drusilla tisked.

Spike grumbled and slid an arm around her waist, nuzzling her hair lightly. Make it damn clear to the bloody Council of Elders that he was there only for his girls, and they’d better not expect any subservience from him.

“So, er…good to see you both again,” Dalton offered somewhat nervously, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Probably remembering various threats and punishments Spike had doled out on him in the past. He knew all too well that the young master was a loose canon, and his position in no way guaranteed his safety if something sparked that infamous temper.

“The blood of Aurelius _thrums_ in our veins,” Drusilla sighed delightedly, letting out a low humming sound that made an eerie echo after the word ‘thrums’. “We smell the treats, and we come. Oh, it will be such a party…” She clapped excitedly.

Now, the Council of Elders didn’t get to where they were by questioning the various – and often extreme – eccentricities of Order members. ‘Smile and nod’ had saved them many a diplomatic disaster.

“The Order welcomes its children,” the council member at the center of the table announced. Agler, Spike thought his name was. “We apologize that a more formal reception is impossible at the moment…” He swept his hands outward in a helpless gesture.

“The Golden Lady to greet herself.” Drusilla giggled at the notion, and her glee couldn’t help but make Spike smile as well.

“You are, of course, welcome to vie for the position,” Agler agreed.

“Damn right,” Spike informed him with a growl when his words cause Drusilla’s expression to fall. Eyes flashing dangerous gold at the Council, he caught his sire up in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

“Tell mommy she’s a princess,” she requested coyly.

“Mommy will be _everyone’s_ princess when I’m through with ‘em,” he grinned.

Several nervous shuffles sounded from the Council seats.

“If you ponces have no further need of us, then…” Spike led Dru away.

“But we—” Agler began nervously.

Dalton kicked him hard in the shin. The two vampires exchanged a look and decided to preserve their hides…

“Well, that was just grand,” Spike commented sarcastically.

“Red blood has been spilt,” Dru commented. “They fear the Order’s fall… Otherwise, my sweet boy would’ve earned himself quite a spanking.” She gave him a sideways smirk.

“You’re welcome to dish out the punishment,” he purred seductively. “Good practice for when you hafta take over.”

She laughed and caught his hand in hers, pulling him up against her. His arms instinctively circled her until they were dancing in the middle of the hallway, moving to a beat that only she could hear.

“The stars have all gone out,” she sighed. “They will not tell me how we will fare through this day.”

“Mmm?” he inquired curiously, placing a gentle bite on the curve of her throat.

“One boy lost… Will our girl taste the blood of the ages on her lips?”

Her words were peculiar in that he couldn’t decipher their meaning. It was clear she was talking about that short-lived childe of Buffy’s and then Buffy herself, but the deeper wisdom eluded him. He figured it would become clear with time, like it always did.

“Come. We must play queen and king to our subjects.” Drusilla’s moment of tenderness faded, and she took on an air of authority that he’d rarely seen in her. Just glimpses here and there. But he loved take-charge Dru whenever he saw her.

“’S long as I don’t hafta suck up to those Council wankers,” he insisted. “Feels wrong not threatenin’ to pop off bookie’s head, y’know?”

“My William sees a dark mirror into what he could have been, had he been any less than he is,” Drusilla chuckled. A call and a wave turned her attention to Cassandra, who was eagerly approaching and fast. “And I suppose I cannot blame him for wanting to wipe such a stain from the face of the earth,” she added, wincing slightly.

Spike held back his laughter at Dru’s ‘lesser shadow’.

“Play nice,” Dru reminded him.

“Oh, the joys of politics,” he grumbled in reluctant agreement…

* * *

It wasn’t every day a master vampire burst into the hall of the Vienna clan, streaming wet from rain and violence, the slayer’s blood on her lips. She’d been greeted with a sort of awed silence, and despite the injuries that were still healing even with the addition of slayer blood, none dared in that moment to raise one finger against her.

It had been satisfying to watch the clan leader bow down before, offer her his most obsequious friendship, and anything she desired. What she desired was to forget her lost childe, and she’d decided she wanted plenty of company to help her do so.

Funny how, after over a hundred years, she’d still never had three men at once. Downright astonishing, actually. But, then, she usually had Spike, and he was a bit snippy about what other males he shared his women with. She’d had two men regularly enough, but three had just never materialized. Until now.

Buffy awoke in a large bed with crimson satin sheets, dangled with the naked bodies of her three lovers of the night before. Two olive-skinned Greeks and one fine blond. All three of them large, chiseled, and beautifully masculine. A purr of satisfaction escaped her lips at how well she’d been filled that night, bits and pieces of wondrous positions flitting in and out of her mind. She’d watched them pleasure each other, too. So breathtaking…

She was beginning to think she liked this master gig.

With a little sore groan, she set to extricating herself from the pile of lovely male flesh. She wondered for a minute whether she’d be able to walk – they’d all been exceptionally large and thick – before she finally reached the edge of the bed and sat up with surprising ease. Oh, she was still sore, but it was a good kind of sore. The kind that would throb and pulse in reminder for days. 

It was a good way to forget that her demon had been ripped from its other half the previous night, stretched open and raw for all the world to see. The depths of the pain surprised her. Not that she hadn’t loved Parker. In a way, she’d loved him the moment he tasted her blood. But it hadn’t been a deep love from years on knowledge. It had been something new, a spark that might’ve burned long or short, but bright nonetheless. It was like she’d been ripped in half.

She wondered briefly then if she had. If, in the siring process, one’s own demon cleaved itself in two and gave one half to its childe. It was a pretty picture that would explain a lot, but Buffy doubted it was that simple or clear-cut. Little in life – or unlife – was.

With a fanged yawn, she stretched and rose to her feet, picking up discarded clothing items from around the room. It seemed wrong somehow that this day would start off so ordinary. Her world had shattered and been born anew last night. She was more and less than she had been. It had been one of those nights that she’d remember with pinpoint clarity for centuries to come…

But the morning after was as mundane as any other. And, in its silence, the sadness and mourning threatened to consume her. She was alone again, without family. She could feel Spike and Dru far at the back of her consciousness, as if there were a cord – stretched thin and far – that connected them. But that connection was little comfort on a day like today.

She shook her head as morose thoughts threatened to overcome her. She couldn’t think about what she’d lost yet or, really, what she’d gained. Vivid and surreal all at once, especially now that she calmly walked about the room given her, slowly getting dressed.

Still a day like any other, just another drop of eternity…

Or not.

Buffy frowned when she noticed something else had changed during the night. Cautiously, she approached the alien object. It hadn’t been there when she went to sleep; she was sure of that. Yet, there it sat, dark and ominous and foreboding. If Buffy hadn’t known what it was, she was sure it would’ve sent nervous tingles down her spine.

As it was, after that brief moment of surprise, she stalked over to it, annoyed, and ripped it open.

Buffy read and smiled. It was funny how things worked out sometimes. Or had things been intentionally worked out this way? In any case, she tucked the letter into her pocket, gold ink on black paper that had transmitted this encouraging message:

 _“The Golden Order welcomes Master Buffy Anne Summers into its halls. Saint Paul’s Cathedral. Midnight.”_

Tossing her hair up into a quick ponytail, she left the room behind. Apparently, she’d be seeing her family sooner than she’d imagined…


	7. Chapter 7

The thunderstorm of the night before had clung to the air throughout the day, a faint dampness and stale smell that always followed such downpours. Tonight, however, the weather had shifted. An airy breeze swept through the streets of the city, warm and gentle and sweet-smelling. The heaviness of the rain had gone, and in its place the entire world was light, making those who walked the darkness feel an extra spring in their step.

Buffy’s own complex internal thoughts put something of a damper on the crisp, clear night. But even she could sense that this was a night of change. The life and power of the slayer’s blood still thrummed through her veins as she prowled through the streets. Everything seemed to have a sharper edge than usual, and the lights shone as brighter pinpricks in the darkness.

She didn’t linger over the hunt, however. She spotted what she could only guess was a mugger in one dark alley, dove in, and had her quick fill. She had bigger things on her mind…

Saint Paul’s Cathedral was an elegant old church set amidst the bustle of the city. Several spotlights on the ground illuminated the foreboding façade, made even starker by the sharp shadows of night. The building seemed almost to glow with an ethereal grace as Buffy cautiously approached.

Now, there was a funny rumor among humans that vamps couldn’t go in churches. Frankly, the entire notion was ludicrous. Vampires simply didn’t enjoy going in churches because churches tended to be full of crosses and holy water and other things that burned like hell. So vampires didn’t venture inside much, in the same way that humans had a tendency to avoid knife or gun shops when they weren’t in the market.

Still, Buffy felt the urge to be cautious. One half of her was surprised that, despite the elation and feeling of invulnerability after the previous night, she was still this levelheaded. Maybe that was what being a Master meant. Keeping cool faculties about you even when the demon raged in triumph. Buffy was surprised at how easy it was.

She found one door at the back of the cathedral that wasn’t illuminated by the spotlights. A bit of darkness in an otherwise garishly bright lot. Slipping through shadows and bushes, she arrived at the entranceway. She was surprised when the doorknob turned easily in her hand and slipped inside as quickly as possible, keeping silently to the shadows.

Unlike the exterior, the interior of the cathedral was pitch black. The only illumination came from the stained-glass windows above. The outdoor lights filtered through the colored glass, creating dim, eerie colored shadows throughout the dome.

The entire place looked mysterious, arcane, and somehow magical. Which was why Buffy was so stunned when she spotted her contact, waiting patiently in one of the pews.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He turned to look at her, then, eyes and fangs glinting in the darkness as Xander grinned. “What, you expected some solemn monk of a vampire?”

Despite the circumstances of their parting, Buffy couldn’t help but be happy to see him again. She laughed. “How are you doing?” she caught him up in a fierce, quick hug. “I mean, after…” She trailed off at the sad memories.

Xander just gave her a wan smile. “I…learned to unlive with it,” he offered with just a hint of regret in his voice.

Buffy pulled away to look at him. It was refreshing to have lived over a hundred years and yet still to see something that hadn’t changed. It was part of why families and clans and orders of vampires had sprung up. Something else unchanging in the world. And Xander hadn’t changed a bit. For all the physical differences, he could still have been that fledgling, turned only a week after Buffy had been turned.

The psychological differences, however… Well, it would take a little while in his company to see just how well he _had_ recovered from his sire’s death.

“So, what are you doing here?” she asked lightly, slumping into a seat in the pew behind him so they could chat over the back of his bench.

“Official Order business,” he grinned. “That, and I sort of volunteered on this mission.”

“So you were the skeezy pervert that snuck into the middle of my foursome to plant that letter?” Actually, it was kind of a relief to know that. She’d been in orgies with Xander before, so him seeing her like that was nothing new. Weird that the thought that it had been a complete stranger disturbed her, even after all these years.

“Getting our master-kink on?” he teased.

She laughed. “Can you blame me?”

He gave her that lop-sided grin, and it brought her back to their first real meeting. How it had always been easy to flirt with him, but he’d had hidden motivations all along. That sobered her a bit. She wasn’t about to fall into another disaster like last time.

“You and Spike seem to be doing well, too,” he commented.

Xander had left that note too, then. It made sense if he’d stayed in the area, watching her family.

“Things are good,” she agreed. “Or they will be when I see him again and sock him in the nose for leaving in the first place.”

Xander nodded, face turned away for her, staring aimlessly up at the stained glass above them and the harsh faces of the saints.

“How about…” Buffy hesitated before sticking to her curiosity, “Willow?”

He snorted. “For all I know, she’s still stuck back over the Hellmouth.”

“For all you know?”

“I haven’t seen her since…that day,” he finished uncomfortably. “But the Order still gets reports from her. So, yeah. She’s still in Sunnyhell. Lucky her, huh?”

The last was meant as a joke, and Buffy couldn’t help but agree. Being a vampire for her had always been about the travel. New places and people. She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like cooped up in that one little hellhole of the town the whole time. Her decision to stay with Spike and Dru had really paid off for her in a lot of ways.

“No bloody, dusty murder, then,” Buffy commented softly.

“Not yet,” Xander agreed, although his eyes still burned with suppressed rage. And then, much to her surprise, the rage faded. “I’ve got more important things to worry about now, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like getting you to the big hoopla down in Carthage.” He handed her a second letter, seemingly identical to the one she’d received earlier.

“Carthage?” she repeated in disbelief as she opened the new envelope.

Xander laughed. “You spend enough time around vampires caught in earlier millennia, and you start talking like them.”

Buffy smiled at that and glanced at the note before her. The same summons Spike had received, only with her name engraved in gold on the invitation this time. “And there was some reason you couldn’t give me these letters before Spike took off?” she inquired wryly.

“I just follow orders,” he answered cryptically, rising from his seat. “C’mon.”

“C’mon?” She tilted her head to one side in a subconscious imitation of Spike’s own favorite gesture.

“We have to catch the shuttle,” he explained.

“We’re leaving _tonight_?” Buffy repeated in disbelief. “I’ve still got—”

He gave her a curious look.

“—Nothing I can’t leave behind at a moment’s notice,” she conceded. Vampires just weren’t that materialistic, really. She had some clothes, but she could always steal new ones when she got where they were going. The rare reminders she kept of her past were all stored safely in vaults throughout the current peaceful areas of earth. She kept a couple small tokens on her person, but she had those now. There really was no reason she couldn’t just leave now and not look back. It was really quite liberating. “Let’s go,” she agreed, following him out into the night…

* * *

“What ever happened to Luke’s childer?” Drusilla wondered airily, frowning at the list of names before her.

Cassandra, always good for the gossip, stepped right in. “Well, Pelham meet with that dreadful situation with the Order of Nonn, you remember. Nasty business. I half expected war to break out what with the—”

“Blabbermouthed busybodies?” Spike suggested with a tightlipped smile.

Cassandra’s nostrils flared in outrage, but she held her tongue against him in Dru’s presence. “And Carver, of course, became a scribe. Although he _did_ tell me to tell you that his family, of course, always has his utmost support,” she went on, ignoring Spike as completely as possible.

Drusilla assessed the numbers and shook her head slowly. “Thanos will not like this,” she predicted, her voice lilting.

“You have a vision?” Cassandra asked eagerly.

“He’s my only real competition,” Dru responded dryly.

Spike, frankly, was impressed. He’d seen Dru play hostess at their parties, true. Seen how she’d drawn lesser vampires to her like moths to a flame. Her madness burned bright, but her power was brighter. But, never in a million years, would he have guessed she’d be able to pull of a political scheme this detailed.

And, a hundred years ago, she _wouldn’t_ have been able to. The madness had only slipped away for quick, lucid glimpses for so long. But she’d changed over these last years. Spike wondered about it often. Could vampire healing, given enough time, cure mental disease? Or had it been Angel’s blood in that ritual all those years ago that had given her this new strength? Or, perhaps, it wasn’t magical at all. Had Angel’s death freed her mind in a way, destroying that which had fractured her consciousness in the first place and finally allowing her to heal?

Not that she didn’t still have her episodes. Every so often, she’d still cling to him as distorted images flashed before her eyes, railing on about things which simply weren’t there. Spike knew how to distinguish visions from episodes of madness after all this time. But she was still stronger now. More independent. Finally able to really function on her own for long periods of time…

His dark-eyed beauty had finally grown up.

And for the first time, he was forced to admit that, yeah, he could see her as ruler of the Order. She had the power, the ruthlessness, and – it seemed – the support to pull it off.

Cassandra had taken the moment of silence to consider more mundane matters. “Thanos will challenge you,” she finally agreed. “We must find a way to… _neutralize_ his threat.” Her hand moved to cover Drusilla’s in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture.

Spike growled.

“You’d best muzzle that boy of yours before he gets you into trouble,” Cassandra sniffed haughtily, but she pulled her hand back.

Dru shot Spike a quick warning look and kicked him under the table. “Snips and snails and entrails,” she giggled with wild delight. Taking his hand, she rose gracefully to her feet. “Dawn whispers its will to me,” she announced to the hall as a whole, before dancing away on feather-light feet, Spike in tow.

Cassandra rose as well, displeased to see their gathering cut so short. “We’ll keep an eye on Thanos’ movements for you, of course,” she offered with false graciousness. “After all, I have no doubt you’d be a queen who would offer her loyal followers… _precious_ rewards…” Conniving eyes alighted on Spike for one second.

“No doubt,” Drusilla echoed, but Spike could already tell her mind was elsewhere.

He swore as they escaped into their quarters, and Dru continued to dance about the room as she made ready for bed. “Dru?” he asked, hoping some of that lucidity was still there.

“Snow-white blossoms shine in the darkness.”

Spike sighed. “Dru, we need to talk.”

“My sweet William was so very good tonight.” Her final pirouette ended up right in front of him as he sat on the bed. One slender-fingered hand reached out to cup in chin, and she placed a quick, affectionate kiss on his brow.

A purr rumbled through him, unbidden, and he let his eyelashes flutter shut for a minute. Smiling, Drusilla kissed the closed lids, caressing his face gently at first and then digging her nails in, drawing blood and lapping up the sweet nectar of his flesh.

“That bitch is no good for you.” He managed to move past his pleasure to speak once more. “She’s always got angles, luv. You know this.”

She ground her teeth in distaste and pulled away from him. “She is necessary,” she answered simply. She turned and approached the vanity, sitting down primly before the empty mirror and slowly brushing her long, dark locks.

“She’s going to ask a hefty price,” he countered, rising as well and coming to stand behind her. He watched the brush move in the mirror’s reflection, guided by an invisible hand through invisible hair. “More than you’re willing to pay, ‘d wager.”

“She’s too enamoured of me.”

“She’s too _jealous_ of you, is what she is,” he insisted with a sudden rage at her stubbornness. He swung about angrily, kicked the vacant chair to shards of wood with a roar.

“It was working against us, too?” Dru asked with false innocence.

Spike growled but held his tongue. He actually managed to calm his temper down, which was quite a feat, really, and something he could only manage with his two girls. Even if both of them seemed to be drifting rather far away from him at the moment.

“’S not worth it, pet,” he finally whispered softly, coming up behind her and burying his nose in the perfume of her hair. “You’ve seen how the Order sucks our kind in. There’s dark magic there, stuff you don’t want to get mixed up in.” He shivered at the thought. “They’re moving against you right now out there.” He gestured in the direction of the main hall. “You do get that, right?”

“I’m not a childe anymore,” Drusilla’s voice answered, cold and remote.

“Would it be so bad just stayin’ with Buffy and me?” he countered. “We don’t need this. We don’t need _them_.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. Just a name, but one that made her entire body thrum with desire for this beautiful mate of hers.

“ _You_ don’t need this,” she finally said reluctantly, pulling away from him and rising to her feet. “This has never mattered to you.” Her palm cupped his cheek. “Have I asked so much of you over the years that you would deny me what I desire most in all the world?” she pleaded with him softly.

His eyes lowered, and he sighed. “Stubborn dove.”

Drusilla smiled. A compromise; it was really all she could hope for. She walked past him and slid into bed, yawning so that her canines sharpened to points for one second.

He watched her, looking terribly lost and alone.

“Come to bed,” she encouraged, patting the mattress beside her.

With a sigh, he stripped and slid into her arms. Cold comfort for now, but it was all he had…

* * *

“Could you _try_ to cut things a little closer? We almost left without you!”

Those shrill tones were the first thing that met Buffy and Xander as they entered the shuttle car. Apparently, the Order kept up a regular presence on the over-seas transport because they had their own personal little room, free of any windows that could endanger them during the daylight hours.

Buffy sat down on the bench opposite this new vampiress, looked up, and did a double-take.

Now, it wasn’t uncommon for her to get the strange feeling she’d seen someone before. Faces blurred together over time, so that eventually everyone and everything had a sense of familiarity. In this case, however…

Buffy’s brow furrowed.

“Is she always this rude?” the vampiress demanded, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder haughtily. “Hello? Staring?”

“Do I…?” Buffy began slowly, her mind unable to place this other.

“Buff, you remember Harmony, right?” Xander asked awkwardly, sitting down as well.

Harmony instantly sidled up to him. “Buffy?” She squinted at the dark-haired vampiress. “Huh. Guess that just goes to show how quickly we forget the _losers_ —” Xander jabbed her thigh pointedly. “Ouch!” she squealed. “That hurt, you—”

Xander gave her a pointed look.

“Oh, er, right,” Harmony suddenly remembered that Buffy was sort of a VIP and they were just Order gophers. “How quickly we forget our high-school years.” She let out a false, sharp laugh.

Buffy just stared at her in disbelief.

“Harm was in our class back at Sunnydale,” Xander reminded her.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to remember that…” Buffy trailed off, puzzled. “Why is she a vampire?” she suddenly demanded, turning pointedly to Xander. 

“Dangerous town, Sunnydale.” He held up his hands helplessly.

“Is there anyone in our class who _isn’t_ a vampire?” Buffy insisted.

“Well, what with Willow turning most our class to take out the Mayor at graduation…” Xander began sheepishly.

A little whimper escaped Buffy’s lips. “Our high-school’s going to live forever.” It was a horrifying thought.

“Nah. Most of them got knocked off by the Initiative, anyway.” Xander sighed nostalgically. “Oh, the screams those soldiers made. Good times…”

Buffy gave him a skeptical look.

“Right. You were off roaming the world back then,” Xander straightened up.

“So,” Buffy turned back to Harmony, “you were around for…my last visit?” She cut herself short of mentioning Cordy’s death. “I must’ve missed you.”

“Ugh.” Harmony’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “Like I’d get stuck in that hellhole. Puh-lease. I was totally in LA, living up the unlife.”

Buffy wondered, belatedly, if her speech patterns had ever been like that. She vaguely remembered human days when she was convinced that southern California was the epitome of culture. Dear god, they all should’ve been shot before the Valley Girl had been immortalized…

“So, how’d you end up with Xander?” It was clear from the way that Harmony had latched onto him that the two of them were together in some capacity. Buffy tried not to think about the strangeness of that too much.

“I ditched LA to work for the Order,” Harmony answered. “You can’t get benefits like these anywhere else. Especially given how prejudiced everyone is about undead employees.” She grumbled under her breath. “I mean, they were only _temps_. And they were _tasty_ temps! Did they really have to fire me? No, I don’t think so…”

“I see.” Buffy sat back in her seat and fought back her instinctive headache. “I think I’m going to get some sleep,” she explained, lying down across the bench.

“Good plan,” Xander agreed, gesturing to Harmony so that the two of them were lying down together on the opposite bench. They didn’t go to sleep, though.

Which was well enough, because neither did Buffy. She did keep her eyes closed and stilled her motions, however, because after Harmony’s first comment, she grew very interest in their topic of conversation.

“So, she’s on Dru’s side against Thanos, huh?” Harmony whispered. Which really was quite pointless, given that they all had super hearing.

Xander looked over at Buffy, incorrectly determined that she was asleep, and continued the conversation. “Not sure. She had some issues with Dru when we last met.”

“Aren’t they, like, sisters or something?”

“Dru’s her grandsire.”

“Same diff.”

“She helped me try to off Dru. Well, until she kinda…didn’t…”

“So, she’s one of Thanos’ then?”

Xander sighed. “Look, I have no clue, all right. I haven’t seen her for over fifty years.”

“No need to be rude,” Harmony insisted sullenly.

Xander’s voice sounded tired now. “Someone obviously had _some_ agenda in splitting her off from Spike, and making everyone jump through hoops,” he agreed. “But hell if I know what it’s about.”

“What if—?”

“Harm?” he cut her off.

“Yeah?”

“I want to get some sleep, ok?”

She sulked. “Party pooper,” but remained silent.

And Buffy was left to her own thoughts, trying to puzzle through what she’d heard and what it meant to her – and her family – when she finally arrived at the home of the Order of Aurelius…


	8. Chapter 8

Even Harmony turned quiet and respectful as they approached the gates. That, in itself, was miracle enough. That there was _one_ thing on earth the overly-perky blonde found serious enough to quiet her almost constant chatter from the trip.

But Buffy only spared Harmony a few seconds attention. She was vaguely aware that the blonde and Xander were following after her at a respectful distance, but they seemed insignificant in lieu of the sight before her.

She’d half believed this was some hoax as their transport veered off into the deserts. These weren’t the deserts she’d seen from all those nature specials, though. Instead of the endless dunes of sand so stereotyped with the Sahara, this region was rocky, full of sharp ravines and rockslides. The earth had an odd dark brown color which, to Buffy, suddenly felt drier than any sand dunes she’d ever seen. Because once these wadis must’ve been filled with flowing rivers – it was really the only natural occurrence that could account for such formations – but now they were bone dry.

Their transport had made almost painfully slow progress at that point. The canyon walls were narrow to the point of claustrophobia at times, and Buffy was just thankful their transport had hover capability. The ground was so rough, she doubted even a tank would be able to negotiate it. As it was, the ride was still plenty bumpy, the irregular ground reeking havoc on the transport’s altimeter. Maybe they should’ve brought in a helicopter…

She’d suspected betrayal at first. But then, as they went on and on and no one made a move, she relaxed again. If they’d wanted her dead, they could’ve done it hours ago. One quick throw into the hot desert sun, and she’d have been a goner. But it seemed so impossible that anything could exist this far from _life_.

When they finally came to a halt, the sun had just set. They disembarked at yet another indistinct fork in the canyon, and Buffy hoped to god that they didn’t expect her to walk far. But then, she figured Harmony would be even less likely to take a hike in the desert, so whatever they were seeking must’ve been close…

Paradoxical, in this wasteland.

The transport took off as soon as the three of them stood on the rough ground, and Buffy watched it go wistfully.

“This way.” Xander gestured to one of the ravines.

Following him with more conviction than she felt, Buffy rounded a sharp edge in the sheer-cut cliffs and…

Gasped.

“What _is_ that?” she breathed in surprise, feeling the soft magic as it tangled around her, probing and exploring lightly, but ultimately doing no harm.

“It’s, like, camouflage. The Mages do it so that no one who doesn’t belong can find this place,” Harmony spoke, her voice unusually quiet. “Pervs.”

Buffy had to admit it _did_ feel a bit like being felt up, but then she was past the mystical barrier, and it was like a fog passed from before her eyes. The desert cliffs shimmered like a mirage before solidifying to form a huge temple façade that rose almost to the very peaks of the cliffs.

“Wow…”

“Welcome to the Sanctuary of the Order of Aurelius,” Xander gestured for her to proceed him.

“How did they—?” she began, curious and astonished, but the look on Xander’s face made it all too clear that he was to be silent for the remainder of this journey.

And, despite the questions bubbling up inside her, Buffy could live with that for the moment. She had enough on her mind just absorbing the sight before her.

Columns wider than she was tall rose over fifty feet. Gleaming white pillars that she thought might’ve been made of marble. How they got out this far from civilization was anyone’s guess. The columns were topped with a large granite slab that formed a covering for the path leading up to the main temple.

Buffy walked slowly up the column-lined path, marveling at how it just seemed to go on and on. Whoever had made this place had definitely been trying to impress the bejesus out of all visitors. Each column was fluted straight up to the top, and the capitals were surrounded by carvings of rosettes and lotuses, all brilliantly painted with bright primary colors.

Perhaps the color was the most astonishing part to her. Because she’d visited plenty of old tourist attractions in her day. The Parthenon, the Colosseum, Karnak, and a whole bunch of other old stuff that Spike seemed to find endlessly fascinating. That wasn’t new to her. But to see it all painted in such rich color, like it would’ve been thousands of years before… It felt almost like stepping back through time.

Buffy’s slow procession up the path finally came to an end in doors well over ten feet tall. More gates than doors, really, made out of some shiny black material. Ebony? She didn’t think that could be used for such a massive gate. But she had no better clue as to what they might be made of. The hinges were wrought iron and contained the same pattern of flowers and ancient designs the exterior did.

It was an imposing door, and Buffy wondered whether even her vampire strength would be enough to move its weight. But that seemed to be unnecessary, for as soon as she climbed the five steps leading to the door, it began to swing slowly inward on its hinges, admitting her to the inner sanctuary.

She shivered as a breath of cool air rushed from the opening door. It was black within, almost like the mouth of some primeval beast. One of the demons of old that she’d read about. A nervous gulp, and she stepped inside, Xander and Harmony following her like two silent shadows.

The door shut behind her as doors always do in creepy circumstances. She’d half been expecting it, but she still found it alarming. Especially since there was no one pushing the door from the inside, either. That either meant there was some unseen mechanical mechanism, or the door opened through magic. Given the feeling of age around this place, Buffy guessed it was the latter.

The inside wasn’t so dark as she would’ve at first expected. The light was dim and, astonishingly, seemed to be electric. Small lights, their bulbs shaped to imitate torches, lined the cavernous room just above human height. A ring of soft light, their illumination dim.

 _Designed for vampire eyes_ , she realized.

And now that she thought about it, she could tell this place had been designed for vampires. There were no windows, no openings in the ceiling. A painted mural of the night sky decorated the over-arching dome above them, welcoming creatures whose home was in the darkness. The perfect Sanctuary…

Xander stepped before her again, grinning at her reaction. Apparently, he’d given up that otherworldly specter act he’d put on outside. “Impressed?”

“Is anyone not?” she countered.

He laughed and led her to a refreshingly human-sized door at one end of the giant atrium. “Welcome home.”

* * *

Spike didn’t like any of this. 

First off, he didn’t particularly like the fact that Dru was so enamoured of these wankers in the first place. Dark magic, endless power, blah blah blah. Mostly it only amounted to centuries holed up in this little fort out in the middle of nowhere, scheming against each other and not doing a damn thing that made any impact on the world as a whole. Well, except for the odd occasions where they decided to rile things up by making all their members scamper back home. A power trip, if he’d ever seen one.

But Dru had her sights set, and there was no point in denying her. His girl had always been a bit more impressed by showy displays than he had. _Loved_ the theater and the opera, while Spike just tolerated most of the time. So he could live with the first.

However, what he _absolutely_ didn’t like was that tosser Thanos arranging ‘secret meetings’ with his sire. Thanos was the competition, and Spike didn’t like to leave Dru alone with the man for more than a second, let alone the two _hours_ it had been since they’d vanished into the inner sanctum.

Now, he knew that Thanos would pay a pretty price if he offed Dru without the appropriate challenges. There were rules to the Order’s madness. He’d watched their ‘rules’ in rather vivid technicolor just that afternoon. Two vamps about four centuries apiece had squared off in the Great Hall. Order rules said no dusting, but that hadn’t kept limbs from being ripped from sockets and eyes from being gouged out. Some of the wounds would heal; others probably wouldn’t. The ‘winner’s eye had been mangled enough that even the Mages doubted it would ever work properly again.

But, if Thanos wanted to fight Dru out of the picture, that was the sort of challenge he was going to have to issue. And Drusilla, in all her infamy, was a brutal fighter. Plus, Thanos was just bright enough to realize that these little gladiatorial battles could maim him permanently, even if he _did_ manage to win. Hell, they’d all seen how Heinrich had turned out. Battles before magic had been banned as a weapon often resulted in such gruesome disfigurement. It had almost been the norm for older vampires for a time.

So, fighting Dru was out. Which meant, Spike figured, that Thanos had to have some sneaky, underhanded plot. That was how things were done in ‘civilized’ society, after all. And whatever he had to chat with Dru about in private could only bode ill for his princess.

Not that there was anything Spike could do about it. One disadvantage to being back at the Sanctuary was that he couldn’t show the Order up as much. The Mages’ power could easily reach him here, and he remembered with a shiver the last warning they’d given him. Completely unfair, twisting up the playing field like that. Magic – and its users – always gave him the shivers. So, begrudgingly, he was behaving himself.

Barely.

He’d leaned back against the wall, just out to the reach of the guards who protected the inner sanctum, and watched several of the Order’s little servants clean up the bloody mess of earlier that day. Weak, easily manipulated vampires that the Order could control with an iron fist. Spike wondered whether Xander was in their midst, or if the Order had disposed of him on a whim. He figured it was about even odds either way.

He didn’t see Xander, though, and eventually – and despite his nervousness about what was going on behind that closed door – restlessness overcame him, and he began to wander the halls aimlessly.

He was always disappointed in this place. Sure, it _looked_ impressive enough, with its millennia old architecture, but inside it really was deathly dull. Hundreds of vampires, some human slaves, but not a creature to hunt in the whole place. They were _vampires_ , for crying out loud! They shouldn’t be hemmed up in this safe little city, importing their blood from Europe, and snubbing their noses at all the vamps out in the world who actually bothered to _live_ , rather than cloistering themselves away.

No, Spike didn’t much like anything in this place. In fact, he wanted to leave right now.

He heard his name practically screeched from down the hall and tensed up. _Especially_ right now.

“William, dear,” Cassandra put on a falsely pleasant smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Oh?” He looked her up and down incredulously. She was dressed from head to toe in this ridiculous purple gown with silver sequins. Looked liked a television psychic with fangs.

“Drusilla isn’t with you?” she asked, looking around.

“Might be lost somewhere in that bustle of yours,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Mmm?” she asked, blinking at him innocently.

“Dru’s with Thanos,” he answered aloud. “If the guards won’t let me in, you haven’t got a chance in hell.”

“Language,” she snapped automatically. “Mustn’t talk so to a lady.”

Spike let out a bark of laughter and covered it with a cough. “Right. ‘m gone now. Bye.” He made a mad dash for the quarters of Heinrich’s line.

Too little and too late, however.

One beefy hand leaned against the wall, cutting off his route of escape. “It seems you’ve forgotten all your manners,” Cassandra retorted in an icy voice.

“Get bent, _Gertrude_ ,” he hissed angrily, eyes flashing golden.

“Is that any way to speak to you elders?” she countered.

He batted her hand away; she caught his wrist in an iron grip in response. He could break it. He was ninety percent sure of that. But beating on Dru’s biggest ally wasn’t going to do his girl any good. And, as much as he wanted Dru to just run off with him yet again, he wasn’t going to sabotage her campaign.

“Let. Go,” he demanded in a tight voice.

She waved one finger at him. “Naughty, naughty.” She gave him an airy laugh.

It sounded like an imitation of Dru’s. An affected notion of madness and true sight. One of dear old ‘Sandy’s favorite acts. It sent shivers down his spine. Dru was the genuine deal, no pretense or fabrication, and he loved her for it. This second-rate hack made his blood boil.

“If you don’t let me go,” he replied with false sweetness, “then ‘ll take your arm right off, and that will be quite naughty of me, indeed.”

Her act dropped at that, and she faced him with narrowed, malevolent eyes. “You do,” she threatened, “and I’ll have the entire Council upon you before you have even a _chance_ to flee.” One finger trailed lightly down the center of his chest. “Oh, it would be such a shame to watch those Mages mutilate this beautiful body of yours. Such a waste… But don’t make the mistake of underestimating me. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“No doubt,” Spike agreed. “But y’know what?”

“Mmm?” Her hand was slithering into the front of his pants now, and she had him pressed back against the wall. No question what she wanted out of him.

“’d rather be deformed for eternity than _ever_ let you touch me,” he snapped, catching her wandering hand and throwing it away from him.

“Vain boy,” Cassandra hissed, flashing fangs. “I’ll teach you to respect your elders.”

“How?” He raised one skeptical eyebrow. “By sittin’ on me?”

An outraged shriek escaped her lips, and her claws raked across his cheek. He continued to stand there, unimpressed, letting his face bleed like he didn’t feel a thing.

“You think I can’t find someone to challenge you?” she demanded with an evil glint in her eye.

“You think I care where I stand in the pecking order?” He shrugged. “’ll just cede.”

“You may not,” Cassandra retorted haughtily, “but your sire… Oh, she needs me. And I’ll make plenty sure you’re the prize I win for my support.” Her hand caught the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. “Pretty thing…”

“Look out, Spike,” an obviously unamused voice cut in dryly. “What looks to be a large purple jellyfish is trying to engulf you.”

The reaction was more scandalized shrieks and enough of a distraction for Spike to pull far, _far_ away. He looked up, downright flabbergasted by this latest newcomer. “How the bloody hell…?” he breathed in disbelief.

“Who the devil do you think _you_ are?” Cassandra demanded, fangs snapping.

Ignoring her entirely, Buffy strode past her and over to Spike. Her fingers reached up lightly to touch the four red gashes that marred his cheek. She shot a pointed look back at the woman, who really _was_ shaped remarkably like a large jellyfish, and licked the blood from Spike’s cheek with short little laps against his salty skin.

“Can’t I leave you for two weeks without you getting yourself into trouble?” she asked, the words teasing, even though her eyes showed little humor.

“Luv,” he purred. “How can you be here?”

“Indeed,” Cassandra snapped, deciphering the mystery of Buffy’s identity quickly enough. It was impossible to mistake the scent of childe and sire. “You aren’t _allowed_ here, little girl,” she insisted.

“Er…actually…” Xander raised one sheepish hand. Cassandra turned on him with disbelieving eyes, and he shrugged.

“You remember the slayer?” Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. Strange how it felt like so much more separated them now than just a couple of weeks apart. Like she’d lived lifetimes in the interval, so that his face, his scent, seemed almost like distant memories from a beautiful, but naïve, childhood.

“Mmm?” He nuzzled her hair, savoring her nearness once more. He’d missed her more than he realized.

“She kinda…died,” Buffy announced, shooting Cassandra a triumphant look. “And it’s kinda because I beat her and then drank her blood.”

A whoop of laughter escaped Spike at that, and he caught her lips in a quick bruising kiss that caught her entirely off-guard. “All that effort these idiots pulled to keep you out, and you go and do the one thing that _guarantees_ your place,” he said proudly. “Just like I did.”

Buffy gave him a small smile.

And, belatedly, he noticed her unusually subdued manner. Funny how, in the thick of things, he’d forgotten her recent loss entirely. It was all distant to him – a hypothetical grandchilde he’d never met – but to her the grief had to be very real.

“C’mon, pet,” he encouraged softly. “Unless dear old Gertrude wants to make more of her threats in front of multiple witnesses that will cheerily tell the Council she’s lyin’?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.

Harmony waved, as if pointing out the fact that she was one of the witnesses in question. Just in case the older vampiress didn’t understand.

Cassandra understood all too well and stalked away, causing Xander and Harmony to press flat against the hall walls in order to let her bulk past.

“Charming friend you’ve got there,” Buffy commented.

He just shook his head. “No friend of mine…” He turned back to her. “Let’s show you where they’ve got our line holed up,” he offered, taking her hand.

“We’re supposed to appear before—” Xander began.

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow in his direction.

“Right, never mind,” Xander quickly clamed up.

Taking Buffy’s hand gently, he led her away to seclusion and privacy, rather like he did to Dru when she was ill from the visions. Because, if madness wasn’t haunting his slayer now, grief certainly was. He wondered belatedly just how debilitating it would be to lose a childe. He tried to imagine Buffy dust and shook the thought off in instant horror. Made him wonder all the more, then, whether it was something you _ever_ got over…

* * *

“It’s a simple arrangement, really,” Thanos offered. He sat half in the shadows, the darkness blending into the black of his shoulder-length hair, her pale, gaunt face stern, spider-like fingers adorned with golden rings steepled beneath his chin.

“Simple, simple…” Drusilla agreed with an enigmatic smile. “You want me to play with the roses. All fall down…”

He frowned, trying to figure out whether she had said something astute or something insane. It was hard to tell with this vampiress. Made her tricky to negotiate with. “Your line dwindles,” he ignored her comment, continuing to press his case, “Penn’s death—”

“Me and my William and our little golden doll,” she sighed. “I know my line,” she snapped, suddenly fully lucid.

“Then you know perfectly well that mine is strong whereas yours…” He trailed off, spreading his hands in an almost apologetic gesture.

“ _Mine_ has precedent,” she retorted.

He sighed. “It isn’t defeat I offer you,” he insisted.

“Oh?” She stood and rose, her fingertips gliding lightly over the cheeks of the two guards that stood rigid behind her. “Then I shall certainly consider your proposal. I’d have to be mad not to, now wouldn’t I?” A little giggle, and she was gone.

Thanos’ expression darkened further.

Stepping forth from the shadows from his concealed place behind the stone wall, Alger ventured nervously, “She’s not going to agree, is she?”

“I’d say that was a rather definitive ‘no’,” Thanos agreed. Sighed. “Ah well, there’s always Plan B.”

Alger gulped. “Th-There’s a bit of a complication with Plan B,” he offered nervously.

“Complication?” Thin, dark eyebrows rose in disbelief that this Order pencil-pusher would displease him so.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Alger scrambled to explain. “Spike’s childe, sh-she killed the slayer! We had no choice but to…” He whimpered at the dark rage that flashed through Thanos’ eyes.

It was gone in a second, however. “Well, then,” he offered with a tone so falsely jovial it made Alger’s skin crawl, “we’ll just have to deal with Miss Summers, as well. Won’t we?”


	9. Chapter 9

“Death wants to compromise,” Drusilla hissed, pacing their bedroom impatiently. “ _Compromise_!” she scoffed. “Do you know what that little man suggested?”

“Mmm?” Spike inquired quietly, trying to hint for her to keep it down. Buffy had fallen asleep without comment as soon as she’d been shown the bed. Spike didn’t want to wake her. To tell the truth, he was more than a little worried about her.

Dru caught his drift, and her voice dropped to a sibilant hiss. “Thanos says we’ll _share_ rule. I become his mate, and sit around like a little doll while _he_ rules everything.”

Spike growled in response, pulling her against him. “Mine!” he insisted vehemently.

Dru’s expression softened at that, almost as if she hadn’t realized before what a threat he’d see in that ‘offer’. “My sweet William,” she cooed, fingers stroking through his dark hair. “Mommy would never abandon you.”

He nuzzled her throat, finding his mark and nibbling at it possessively.

“I spat on the fool’s offer,” Dru promised him, “but in a such a way that he didn’t even know whether to take offense.” She giggled in memory of the nearly perpetual confusion on Thanos’ face as he’d tried to deal with her.

“That’s my girl,” Spike announced proudly. “You’re second to none.”

She sighed and gave him a mysterious little smile. “But you’ve been naughty in my absence,” she clucked disapprovingly. “I can smell it all around you. I wasn’t the only one propositioned today…” Dark eyes alighted on the nearly-healed scars across his cheekbone, and she trailed over them lightly with her thumb.

“Your good pal ‘Cassandra’,” Spike rolled his eyes, “figured her help had earned her a taste of the goods.”

Drusilla’s eyes flashed. “Silly pretender shouldn’t touch what’s not hers,” she sing-songed.

“Exactly what I told her,” he agreed. “Only…er…”

“A bad ending.” Drusilla sighed. “Is my ally lost to me then?” Off of his stricken look, she quickly amended. “My black knight is more precious than all the allies in the world. Still…” Her lips twisted into a rueful smile, and her tone turned sober. “We need her.”

“I know. ‘m sorry, luv.”

She waved his apology off. “We’ll find a way to work things out yet,” she insisted. “The clouds of darkness circle, but because I called them.” She giggled, leapt up off his lap, and spun around the room.

“This is serious, Dru,” he said wearily, sitting back against the headboard, his fingers playing lightly with Buffy’s auburn locks. “You refuse this deal, and you’ll hafta fight him. I still stay the best bet is to leave these wankers to their own little struggles and get as far away from this place as possible.” He shivered. “Makes me edgy, cooped up with this many vamps.”

“My dearest pet,” she sighed. “Mommy cannot leave now. They know the prize is within my grasp, and…” Her hand made a snatching motion inches from the tip of his nose.

He didn’t even flinch. “Whatever you say,” he agreed. “As always.”

The weight on his shoulders increased every time she refused to leave. Oh, her poor boy, trapped in such a predicament by his love for her… “If you left without me,” she began hesitantly.

“ _Never_.” The answer she expected.

“Oh, what a contorted web we weave…” She curled up against his side, savoring his nearness. It belatedly occurred to her that if she won this battle, she might never hold him like this again. No wonder he despaired…

“You said it,” he sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. They sat together quietly for a few seconds before a third voice interrupted their musing.

“It’s true, then?” Buffy stirred beside Spike, propping herself up on one elbow to look at her sires. “You’re seeking rulership of the Order?”

“I take the honor our line has held since Aurelius first passed from this world,” Drusilla agreed.

Buffy nodded slowly. “It might be…nice,” she commented, “to live here, safe from the suffering of the outside world…”

Spike tensed at the grief in her voice. Dru’s eyes turned soft. “Oh, my sweet, sweet childe,” she cooed, pulling Buffy up into her arms. She placed a soft kiss on the former-slayer’s forehead, before slowly trailing her way down her cheek and to her lips.

Eagerly, Buffy accepted her kiss, wrapping her limbs around the elder vampiress. She felt Drusilla’s strong presence all around her, and she tried to drown herself in it as she had done as a fledgling. But she failed. Dru wasn’t enough to consume her being, bury her pain, any longer…

She was only vaguely aware of Spike’s presence before then, a steady weight and hardness at her back. But then he was kissing her throat where he’d made her, and a new flood of sensations overwhelmed her, and she reached back with one hand to pull him tighter against her. Pulled them both closer, and sandwiched herself between their bodies. And, slowly, the pleasure of their touches overcame her, and she found the oblivion she sought.

Drusilla’s lips on hers, her hands palming Buffy’s breasts, stimulating her, arousing her. Spike’s cock rubbing against the back of her skirt, lifting it up, finding bare flesh. Pushing deep inside her pussy until it felt like he was consuming her from within.

For a moment, she thought to protest. Parker had once been inside her like this, and she didn’t want his scent gone. But multiple lovers had already erased his scent, and all that was left to go were her vivid memories of the feel of him inside her. Spike had no difficulty making those fade to naught but vague flashes.

The protest died on her throat, and she lay limp between them. Spike thrusting fast; Drusilla twisting wildly at her clit. She felt fangs, tasted her blood on their tongues almost as if she were drinking it herself. It was oblivion and pleasure.

But it was not so wonderful as she had remembered…

* * *

Peace.

She’d once known that as she lay between her sires. She could remember vividly the days when they’d teased and tussled and fought for center position. Days when she hadn’t had a care in the world, and every new experience had seemed a wonder to be cherished.

She wondered now that one simple death had changed her so much. Just why was she acting so differently? She’d only known him for weeks, after all. And she wondered if, maybe, it was because she’d dealt with so little loss during her unlife. She’d seen horrors, made foolish mistakes, and come close to losing her own life, true, but nothing _really_ bad had ever happened to her before. Strange to think of it but, with Spike and Dru, she’d led a rather sheltered life.

She lay there quietly for a few moments, and slowly Spike began to stir. His nostrils flared against her throat, and she shivered at the feel of his cool breath against her.

“Evenin’ already?” he asked lazily.

“Five,” she answered absentmindedly, checking the clock.

“Big hoopla’s at quarter of six.”

“We should probably wake Dru.”

A poignant pause.

“You do it,” they said in perfect unison.

He gave her an amused little smile, and she managed a little smirk in return. He took that as an encouraging sign and leaned in and kissed her. “You’re closer,” he teased.

With a roll of her eyes, Buffy turned over and set upon her task. _How do you wake a sleeping vampiress? Very carefully._ Her foot nudged Dru’s ever so slightly. No movement.

Behind her, Spike chuckled.

A more persistent prod to the shoulder. A soft whisper of Dru’s name. Still nothing. Buffy leaned in closer, preparing to leap back the second she’d made her move.

And Dru, completely randomly, chose that moment to wake up. A strangled squeak escaped Buffy’s lips as her sire’s hand instantly found her throat and squeezed hard. Dru’s mind woke up a second later, and she saw who her ‘attacker’ was. She mouthed a little ‘oops’ and giggled, yawning lazily.

“Next time, it’s one of your turns.” Buffy pointed at both of them, massaging her throat. No real damage. Good.

“Time, time, time…” Drusilla muttered, looking at the clock.

“See what’s become of me…” Spike murmured under his breath.

Buffy and Dru both glared at him, and he shrugged.

“Almost time,” Drusilla clapped excitedly, turning back to the matter at hand. “We must pretty up our little girl.” She caught Buffy by the hands and practically yanked her out of bed.

“I don’t need to—” Buffy protested.

Dru cut her off with a fingertip to the lips. “You’ll shine before them all,” she promised. Her hands came to rest on Buffy’s shoulders, and she pushed down hard. 

Buffy went with the flow and landed in the seat in front of the empty vanity mirror. Behind them, she could hear Spike stirring, making his away around the room and gathering his clothes. 

“Master Buffy. Buffy Master,” Drusilla giggled absentmindedly as she ran a brush through the former Slayer’s dark dresses. “Should’ve picked another name while you had the chance. Known forever as Buffy…”

“What’s wrong with Buffy?”

Spike snorted.

Drusilla sighed. “Must cast aside the mask of life and embrace the identity of death.”

Buffy frowned. “I was the Slayer in life. I’ve only been Buffy since I died.”

Spike snorted again. The two women ignored him.

“Besides,” Buffy pointed out, “it’s not like you switched names.”

“Oh, didn’t I?” Dru sounded perfectly delighted by Buffy’s comment. This was the secret she loved better than all others. “Old Liam was Angelus, and William became Spike. But Drusilla… Who became Drusilla?”

Buffy blinked slowly. “I always thought that was your real name,” she commented in surprise.

“It is,” Dru agreed. “Now.” She leaned in close to whisper in Buffy’s ear. “That’s the secret of it, you know. One day you’re so old none of them remembers. None except the Order…” Her voice sounded awed at that last word.

“Yeah, real hard, that. Keepin’ written records and all.” Spike seemed to just be getting grumpier as the evening progressed.

Drusilla shook her head and turned back to her girl. Not a girl anymore, really, but still hers. “Have you heard about Drusilla?” she asked with barely contained delight.

Buffy shook her head, played along.

“They taught us all about her at the convent. Wicked, sinful woman. Oh, she was a Roman, dark and vile. The sister of an emperor. The worst of them all, Caligula.” She sighed. “His sister…and his lover.”

Buffy grinned. “The worst of both worlds.”

“A naughty, naughty woman,” Dru agreed. Her expression turned almost regretful. “I was never allowed to be naughty while I was alive. ‘Mind your manners, say your prayers.’” She drifted away through the years then, and Buffy wondered whether one day she’d drift so far that she never came back.

“What was your real name, then?” Buffy’s hand came to rest on hers. Suddenly she wanted her sire here again, close. “I mean, your human name?”

Drusilla shook off whatever reverie she’d fallen into. “Mommy will tell you some day.” She winked. “When you say the magic words…” With a final flourish of the brush, she deemed Buffy’s hair suitable. Her excitement caused her to twirl away from both her lovers as she dressed herself.

Buffy sat at the vanity and applied her make-up with a century’s blind practice. And, while she was at it, she pondered Dru’s riddle.

“Hurry up, kitten.” 

Spike’s voice cut in, and she realized she was dawdling. Hurriedly, she dressed, feeling inordinately nervous herself. An assembly. More vampires of her power – and greater – than she’d ever seen in all her unlife, all in one place. It was intimidating, distracting. It was what she needed.

Drusilla gestured for her to proceed them with a flourish, and she stepped out into the halls. One second of privacy for Dru to pull her mate to the side. “She’s changed, my love,” she commented knowingly.

“Inevitable,” he agreed.

“I do not like the sad songs the birds sing around her.” Dru bit her lip. “The gaiety is all gone now. Or perhaps just forgotten…”

“Then ‘s up to us to make her remember, right?” he pointed out.

She smiled. “My William is always right,” she agreed, patting him lightly on the cheek before following after her poor, lost childe.

* * *

The Grand Hall was a large circular room buried deep within the desert cliffs. It had taken almost five minutes of walking through dim, narrow corridors for them to finally emerge into the large open room. Buffy knew she wouldn’t have been able to find the place without Xander and Harmony as their line’s guides. She doubted Spike or Dru would’ve managed, either.

The room was set up arena-style. With rows of seats lining the round wall in rising tiers. Actually, Buffy thought, she could just as easily see it as a parliamentary room as an arena. Or, perhaps, some strange combination of both.

Xander tapped the back of her hand lightly, and she stopped her rather obvious gawking and followed his lead. She noticed only when the crowds had separated them that Harmony had led Spike and Dru in a separate direction.

“Where are we—?” she began in alarm.

“We’ll get back to them soon enough,” Xander promised. “First, the Council has to introduce you.”

Buffy wished, then, that she’d actually bothered to meet ‘the Council’ – whoever, or _what_ ever, they were – the day before. It might have made her less nervous.

The place was packed full with vampires now, and her senses were going wild with warnings. Overloading. She had to block them all eventually, and then slowly peek them open again. Rather like walking into an impossibly bright room, shutting your eyes and then squinting your eyelids open ever so slightly. It gave her a rough feel of the age and power of those vampires nearest to her. For the moment, it was the best she could do.

She could watch, though. She was being led into the center of the arena. The sense of open vulnerability increased, but it also gave her a better perspective of the audience. There had to be hundreds of vampires here, and each time she squinted at them with her enhanced senses she received the same result. _Master. Centuries old. Powerful. Dangerous._

She searched the assembly wildly for Spike and Dru, cursing Spike for picking a dark hair-color this decade. She never would’ve had difficulty spotting him with the platinum-white locks he’d worn when she first knew him. Or with the shocking red tips he’d dyed into his hair only eleven years ago. But quite a majority of the vamps had dark hair…

 _To the left. Sinister, you know. It means left…_ Dru’s voice sounded in her ear, and Buffy started. Looked to the left.

There they were, front row. Drusilla with a little smile on her face. Buffy managed one, too. It was so rare that Dru used her mental powers on her family that Buffy often forgot of her sire’s gifts. They were more games to play with prey than tools to be used. She was grateful for them now, though.

Xander walked up the steps of a small podium at the head of the arena. Buffy took a deep breath and followed, Dru’s comforting presence brushing against her mind. Buffy looked up, saw the Council…

“Dalton?” She blinked in surprise.

The bookish vampire managed a little smile of recognition. The other eleven vampires that sat at the two long wooden tables on each side of the majestic, empty throne looked at her curiously. 

Buffy was surprised that none of them felt much stronger than Dalton. Or Xander for that matter. It was almost a relief, given the thrumming power all around them. An entire Council and none of them Masters, despite some very old ages. Weak, lesser vampires, never trained to their full potential, slow in their development. One day they’d hit their peak, but they’d delayed the pursuit of power. Buffy knew that in Dalton’s case he’d done so in the pursuit of knowledge. She could only guess that the others had had similar ambitions.

The empty throne took on more poignant meaning, then. The Council, despite its age and learning, wasn’t powerful enough to protect the Order from its enemies. They needed a champion, a warrior. Buffy looked at that throne, and she could see how it called to Drusilla. The ultimate expression of victory over life and death…

Or maybe Dru was still whispering in her ear. She couldn’t tell.

Xander stood to one side, and the Council rose. Buffy just stood there, trying not to look awkward and uncomfortable, as she had no idea what was expected of her. One of the Council members – the oldest, by Buffy’s guess – held up a large chalice of white gold before him.

It was a simple cup, with a wide base and a shape not unlike an oversized wineglass. Xander nodded for Buffy to step forward, and she did so cautiously, rising up the last few steps.

“I am Alger,” the vampire with the cup announced, “eldest of the Council of Elders. With the Golden King dust, I stand in his stead.”

“Uh…hiya?” Buffy ventured.

Alger frowned at her informal and rather undignified response. _Like sire, like childe. Mocking our ways…_ “I stand before this assembly of the Order of Aurelius and welcome Buffy into our cabal. Join our blood and become one with the Order, childe-no-longer.”

Xander produced a thin white-gold blade of a similar simple design to the chalice.

Buffy sighed. All that fanfare for a ritual this obvious? Spike was right; the whole Order were a bunch of old-fashioned, overly-dramatic sods. She took the knife, however.

“Two drops are you allowed into the Sacred Chalice,” Alger instructed her.

“Right, right.” Buffy was having enough difficulty cutting herself on the edge. Gold just wasn’t that hard, and vampire flesh was hard to pierce. That, and the blade probably hadn’t been sharpened since some really bored vampire had forged it ten-thousand years ago. There was probably some silly rule about how it could only be carried about on acolytes’ butts or some similar nonsense.

She finally managed to cut her palm, held her hand over the cup, and squeezed her fist until two shinning red drops fell forth. Something about the lighting in this place made the red shine brilliantly, brighter than even the room’s dim illumination. And she had no doubt in that moment that every vampire in that hall could see those two drops of blood more clearly than anything else. _Magic_. It was the only explanation.

She felt it pulse through her when the two drops struck the black pool already within the chalice, felt thousands of demons before her pulse in her veins for one moment. She staggered with their power and age, her own demon screaming as it was crushed by their might.

But then the moment faded, and she was herself again, kneeling before Alger and shaking slightly. She looked up at him with angry golden eyes. “You could’ve warned me.”

He managed a tight-lipped smile. “The Order has accepted its newest sister. Rise, Buffy, childe of Spike, and take your place among us.”

Xander gestured for Buffy to follow him off the platform and back to where Dru and Spike were seated. She followed eagerly, away from the arena floor. Her sire’s hand brushed her wounded one the instant she sat beside him, and she pressed her forehead against his.

“Wankers,” they said in almost perfect unison, smiling as they did so…


	10. Chapter 10

Still feeling chilled from her ordeal, Buffy accepted the loose arm about her waist and turned her attention to that night’s festivities. She heard whispers around her, tales of blood and gore from skirmishes that had occurred before. Apparently, those battles were nothing compared to what she was going to see tonight. If the two lesser childer of Penn were to be believed.

Alger stood once more beside the throne, addressing the assembled crowd. “Our Order faces peril for only the fourth time in its existence,” he announced. “Two thousand years ago, we fought with tooth and blood, claimed this ancient sanctuary as our own, and Aurelius brought us to greatness.”

Cheers rose up. Buffy began to wonder if she was at an overly-glorified pep-rally. The way Spike was rolling his eyes, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

“But, Aurelius, the Great One, left us, and chaos reigned in his wake,” Alger persisted. “From his ashes, the Master rose, and we triumphed over our foes, ripped out their hearts with our bare hands and tasted their dust on our lips.”

Buffy couldn’t help but feel that some of the eyes that looked to the stands dedicated to Heinrich’s line were accusatory. ‘Oops. Didn’t _mean_ to kill him,’ she felt like explaining. But didn’t. What’s done was done. And, at the time, yeah, she’d kind of wanted to kill him very badly. In as painful a way as possible. The short-sightedness of youth…

“The Dark Lord crushed all opposition and sat upon the throne,” Alger continued. “And we were mighty once more, feared once more. We slaughtered the Dareians, murdered the Crimson Queen. But, once more, the throne stands empty. And we have gathered here to fill it once more, to choose a new leader who will lead us to further greatness, a ruler to match Aurelius’ millennium!”

Shouts, jeers, insults flung between lines. 

Buffy could see how this would be a big deal, if this was only the fourth ruler the Order had ever had. It begged questions, too. This place was obviously far older than that. Vampires had existed even longer. What had there been of vampire society before the Orders existed? It was an idle curiosity, and one she’d pick Spike’s brain over later.

Now, the contests were beginning.

“Those who would display their might before us, rise. Rise and fight with the glory of your sacred Golden Order!” Alger announced.

A dozen or so figures rose. One or two per line. Buffy guessed that most lines had sorted out who their representative would be before this assembly. Dru was the only one to rise from Heinrich’s line, but then their bench was by far the least population. Apparently, for all Heinrich’s might, his progeny weren’t faring so well.

“Make your challenge.” Alger gestured for Dru to start. Preference given to the line of the former Order leaders.

She cast a wicked smile in the direction of the Semadar Line. “Damian,” she announced with amusement. That wicked smile never left her lips, and her dark eyes bored into her chosen opponent.

Buffy didn’t quite know what Dru did. Did she pull a telepathic trick, invade his mind and torment him? Or was it just that she had that good – or bad, as the case may have been – of a reputation?

In either case, Damian gulped. “Forfeit,” he whispered and sat back down.

Several of his line hissed in disapproval. He ignored them all, head in his hands.

Well, that had been easy…

“Make your challenge,” Alger turned to the far side of the room, where Thanos stood, watching Damian’s easy defeat with amusement. “Caleigh,” he declared, gesturing to the proud, dark-haired female at the far end of the room. One of the few who had another contender within her line.

“I accept,” the vampiress agreed in a softly accented voice.

Excitement grew as the two opponents moved into the center of the stadium, facing off.

“Gladiator much?” Buffy whispered in Spike’s ear.

“You have no idea,” he sighed, shaking his head.

A shout from the crowd, and the battle began. It was nothing Buffy hadn’t seen a thousand times before with various fledglings throughout the world. The same, and yet so much more.

Bodies slashed out and twisted away at such speed that they were a blur even to her master’s eyes. Punches and kicks in intricate combinations, and she followed them with her instinctual sense of the fight rather than merely her eyes. And, for once, she wasn’t shaking her head and missed moves and sloppy style. No, these two were perfectly trained fighters, each move perfect and precise and entirely deadly.

Dru, Spike, and Xander had all commented that these battles weren’t to the death, but Buffy couldn’t imagine how that would be the case. It made sense, of course – the Order wouldn’t want so many of its greatest fighters being dusted – but how _anyone_ could just maim in a situation like that and not kill was beyond her.

The first sign of victory came – as Buffy knew it would – by who maintained their speed the longest. She watched Caleigh start to slow, almost imperceptibly, but enough that she took several slices to her flesh. She didn’t lose her cool as a younger vampire might’ve, however, and she got in a good kick to Thanos’ knee that caused him to stagger for a moment.

Drusilla caught a breath in brief hope, but then it was over.

Thanos, with a violent rush, tackled his opponent back to the floor and plunged his hand into her chest. Caleigh screamed as his fingers wormed their way through flesh and bone to her heart, still struggling and flailing and hoping to pull off a victory.

Finally, a whimpered plea escaped her mouth. “I yield…”

“It is over,” Alger announced.

Thanos, not quite done, ripped apart her shirt as he rose over her, displaying her gruesome wound and helpless female body before them all. Her pants were next to go. Bare, open humiliation.

“He’s not going to—!” Buffy began in protest.

But he wasn’t going to get a chance. Several of her childer had rushed onto the field the instant the battle had been declared over, and they bared their fangs at Thanos, causing him to back off from their sire. With proper reverence to a fallen warrior, one of them draped a cloak over her body and they carried her gently from the arena.

“Tricky, tricky boy,” Drusilla commented ruefully, one fingertip pressed against her lips. “Shows how he’ll shame all who dare even accept his challenge…”

“Dru…” Spike pointed out nervously.

“I have my ways as well,” she assured him, patting him lightly on the cheek. “I’ve still taken less damage.” She winked at Buffy.

Dru had a point there. As long as she could get more opponents to back down than Thanos did, she’d be in better shape when the two of them faced off.

Several battles of lesser consequence followed. Violent and bloody, true, but no one seriously considered the winners for the throne. It was anticipated that they would all fall later.

“Too bad Willow’s not here to see the festivities. She’d love this sort of thing,” Buffy commented, watching two badly maimed opponents from the same line scamper out of the ring.

“Red pixie will have her own moment to shine one day,” Dru commented dreamily, her eyes distant.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look. A vision? They didn’t have time to pursue the matter because the list of contenders had gone full circle, and Drusilla was up to make her challenge again. She was still for a few moments, still caught in her ethereal haze.

Across the room, Thanos rose, about to suggest that she was forfeiting…

She snapped to just in time. “Has the one-armed puppy removed himself yet?” She pointed with a giggle.

The ‘one-armed puppy’ in question was the so-called victor of the last battle. His arm was being stitched back on even as they spoke. It would probably grow together again. Probably.

It was a no-brainer. Another forfeit.

Thanos got one, too.

It seemed that the challenges did more to beat the fight out of the lesser contenders than challenge the power of the greater. The final battle, though… That would be bloody.

“How long does this go on?” Buffy complained, growing weary of the bloodshed. Which, for a vampire, was fairly impressive.

“Forever,” Spike grumbled gloomily.

Drusilla patted his head absentmindedly. “They will adjourn shortly, I think…” she concluded.

‘Shortly’ was relative, of course. They ran through all the remaining competitors a second time. Alger gave Drusilla a nod that she wasn’t needed to challenge again when her turn came back up. A fine swath cut through the power-hungry that day. Only eight challengers remaining. It was a good day’s work.

Spike was out of his seat before Alger had even officially ended the assembly. Disapproving murmurs followed him, but he didn’t seem to care. Dru, Buffy, Xander, and Harmony followed more politely when the meeting had finally been broken.

They found Spike back in their rooms, scowling in the blood in his glass as he sipped at it. “No telly,” he complained.

“I’m amazed they’ve got as much as they do out in the desert,” Buffy commented, flopping upon the bed and watching him over her folded arms. “But they do seem to be a few centuries off.”

Spike snorted. “At least they finally got rid of all the bloody candles. Death trap just waiting to happen.”

Drusilla shook her head at her childer and their uncultured ways. No respect for the old and venerated… Ah well, if that was the worst mistake she’d made in their fledgling days, she could consider herself quite an effective mother.

Turning back to the door, she beckoned for Xander and Harmony to enter. Invitation Magic was one of the three hallowed principles of this building, and none could enter a line’s room other than their own without invitation upon each occasion. It saved quite a lot on backstabbing.

“If you need anything…” Xander began nervously.

Drusilla cooed and ran one hand through his dark locks. “Pretty, pretty boy,” she sighed, nuzzling his neck.

“’m not in the mood for an orgy, Dru,” Spike cut in, annoyed. He raised one suspicious eyebrow at where Harmony was openly ogling him.

Her expression dropped in response, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “You don’t have to be mean about it,” she huffed.

Spike just rolled his eyes.

“No time for play?” Dru pouted as well but released Xander. “Pity, pity, but true.”

Xander sat on the divan across the room from the bed, and Harmony joined him, pacified when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Still not seeing why you want us here,” he pointed out.

Buffy turned to look at Dru, equally curious.

“Someone’s playing tricks,” Dru announced in a little sing-song. “And I’ll know who.” She landed on the bed beside Buffy, sitting up straight and proper like a true lady. The effect wasn’t at all ruined when the younger vampiress rested her head on Dru’s thigh. Really, it wasn’t.

“Someone’s _always_ playin’ tricks in this hellhole,” Spike commented from where he lounged on the armchair, lighting up a cigarette.

Drusilla gave him a knowing smile. “But this time they’ll not be on me,” she concluded, turning back to Xander and Harmony. “You brought my childer to me. Tell me all of it, every last whisper…” Her own voice dropped down to an excited whisper with the last word.

Xander gave Buffy an accusing look. She shrugged. If he didn’t want Dru and Spike to know all this, then he shouldn’t have told her.

He sighed and took another of the blood-filled wineglasses from the silver tray, sipping slowly as he considered his position. “I’m not supposed to tell you…” he began.

Drusilla clucked disapprovingly.

“But, even more important,” he added, “I don’t know much.”

“You’ll tell all your secrets,” Dru decided. “Not hold them in like worms festering in your belly until they eat your heart alive.”

Xander winced. He apparently got the analogy to what had happened to Cordelia all those years ago. “I’ll tell you,” he agreed easily enough. “They can’t hear us here.”

“Or so they want us to believe,” Spike retorted, looking around the room suspiciously.

“They cheat and I’ll _know_ ,” Dru promised with such conviction that Buffy believed her.

She’d never seen any evidence that Dru could pick and chose her prophetic insights, but she’d bet that wasn’t a generally known fact among the Order. And those who would spy wouldn’t dare risk the stigma of their treachery being brought before the assembly.

Xander nodded, considering similar issues. “I was sent for Spike,” he finally answered. “And not Buffy. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Or, not until after the challenges, at any rate.”

“Why?”

Xander shrugged. “Good question. I mean, they wanted Spike here pretty bad. No clue why. It seems to me that if they want Dru to lose, they should’ve kept all of you away.”

“The stain must run deeper than that,” Drusilla considered thoughtfully.

“Who nixed Buffy’s entry?” Spike asked, the point still obviously grating on his nerves.

That, Xander had an answer for. “Alger. He was very specific. You not showing proper respect and her not having proved herself, and blah blah blah.” He shook his head. “It made no sense. He let in two ninety-year-old vamps from Celeste’s line only two months ago. Both of them got taken down by demon hunters only a month later. That _they_ got in, and Buffy didn’t?” He shook his head again.

Harmony’s nose turned up in distaste. “I don’t see why she’s such a big deal,” she pointed out rather rudely. “I mean, you sucked up the cheerleading squad, and you’re not _that_ impressive. No offense,” she added sweetly, as an afterthought.

Xander laughed nervously and gave her a pointed look. “What she’s _trying_ to say,” he offered to the three very powerful and dangerous master vampires, “is why would anyone single Buffy out? Over all the other new Order members, I mean…”

“Alger wants Buffy out…” Drusilla pondered. “He’s backing Thanos,” she decided. “But, oh, so secretly…” She frowned. “So who wants Buffy in?” She turned back to Xander.

He grinned at last. Apparently this was one fact he was allowed to spill. “Dalton’s never been a big fan of Thanos’. Or Alger’s.”

“And he’s a fan of _us_?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “We’ve threatened to kill him more times than…” She trailed off. “Ever,” she finished lamely when she couldn’t come up with a suitable metaphor.

“Scared him onto to our side,” Spike chuckled, feeling proud of himself.

“Perhaps,” was all Dru said to that. “Perhaps.”

* * *

“I see him all around you, you know.”

Buffy turned and was surprised to see Dru there. She’d felt the need to retreat from the cloistered feel of the Sanctuary and had ventured out into the cool desert night. She’d found a path worn into the cliff wall, followed it up out of the canyon, and found herself on a high plain. The desert stretched out for what seemed like forever there, an infinite wasteland. Overhead, the full moon shone bright, creating ghostly shadows across the landscape.

Drusilla seemed to pick up on the effect as well. “Like a ghost, he haunts your every step,” she commented, sitting beside Buffy on the rocky ledge. “Pain and agony wrapped around you like a tight, invisible bow…”

“I didn’t think anyone would find me out here,” Buffy commented casually in response, still staring up and the moon and the stars.

Dru tisked lightly. “Mommy will always know where to find you. Thin threads that lead through the night and bind up together. Even in death…”

“That’s not true,” Buffy insisted. “I felt that thread snap when Parker died. It was just…gone. Like a piece of me. Dust.”

“Our boy has a name,” Dru’s lips quirked for a moment. “If the thread has snapped,” she retorted, “then why does his shadow hang over you?”

“Because I miss him,” Buffy retorted in a ‘duh’ voice. “Because I’m sad and alone.”

The elder vampiress sighed. “You see only the moon, but never the stars,” she said cryptically.

Buffy frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Dru said, her voice very quiet and still in the night, “that your boy is dust. But what was your boy? Naught but a fragment of your demon given to a childe. What, do you suppose, happened to his demon when he perished?”

“It’s in hell.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Great pep talk there.”

Drusilla shook her head, sending dark locks cascading over her shoulders. “But his demon lives,” she retorted, “for it’s part of _your_ demon…”

Buffy opened her moment to protest, stopped, and considered.

“You feel him inside you – as do Spike and myself – and he rages that his form has passed. But he’s still there,” Dru’s hands came up to caress Buffy’s temples, “inside.”

Buffy shivered at the thought. It was both comforting and alarming.

“I have never lost a childe,” Dru’s voice turned soft and ethereal. “But I felt the thread snap, felt my sire’s last gasp…”

“I thought you hated Angel?”

Drusilla laughed wryly at that. “Hated and loved… Wound so close together, they’re almost indistinguishable.” She sighed. “I hated him,” she agreed, “but one can’t help but love family. They’re always within us, whispering of greatness and failure…”

Buffy considered that. She hadn’t really known Parker – certainly not like she’d known Spike or Dru – yet she’d still come to love him so quickly. _I had no choice_ , she realized. _In some way, he was a part of me…_

“Such a great secret and so simple,” Dru commented philosophically. “It is true immortality. Being passed down through childer, grandchilder…” She sighed contentedly, looking up at the stars above. “Forever and ever.”

Buffy turned to look at her. “You’re worried you’re going to die,” she guessed with sudden insight. “You think Thanos plans to kill you.”

“He may try,” Dru conceded blankly.

“And he wants to kill your childer, too?” Buffy frowned. “No, wait, that makes no sense. Then why wouldn’t he have wanted me here?”

“The Order is old. Older than anyone has ever guessed. I can feel it in my bones…”

“Aurelius was born—”

“Aurelius is a name,” Dru insisted. “He is not the Order, merely its modern face. No,” she shook her head, “we are as old as this desert. As immortal…”

“Maybe.” Buffy didn’t know one way or the other at that point.

Drusilla stared off into the distance for another minute. “Thanos doesn’t mean to kill me,” she finally stated, her words slow and precise as if she were considering each one very carefully. “It is too simple, too mundane. No… He has something else planned. Something hidden in the darkness between the stars.”

Buffy felt the strange urge to follow her gaze. She didn’t see anything, of course.

“Something we have not seen yet,” Dru concluded. And then, with a laugh, she shook the melancholy off and caught Buffy’s hand, guiding her back to their temporary home.

And Buffy was surprised to find that, despite the political battles that hung around them, she felt lighter than she had since before Parker had crumbled to dust.


	11. Chapter 11

Drusilla was spectacular. Brutal. Deadly.

Spike watched the battle before him with an ever-growing grin on his face, the name of Dru’s challenger forgotten amidst the screams.

Now, Dru wasn’t your conventional vampire. She’d seen the moves and could emulate them just as well as any human behavior, true. But that wasn’t the heart of Drusilla’s power. Her mind had always been her greatest weapon. Mad, but immeasurably strong all at once. A will and a thrall that could snag sane minds all the more because its machinations were beyond them.

The male that had been foolish enough to challenge Dru was feeling the burden on his consciousness even now. His lashed and struck, but always found himself just short. Like his body was moving through thick molasses, because that was where his mind had been trapped.

 _They watch you and laugh, the stars do_ , Drusilla’s voice whispered to his mind and to all others who leaned in close enough to sense it. Only Spike and Buffy did so without fearing any repercussions. _All around you, the world spins and spins, a top over a Ferris wheel. Round and round and…_

A dizzy stagger brought the other vamp down to his knees. Drusilla hadn’t even struck him. His line was screaming for blood now, angry at the deception of a power so deep they could barely even comprehend it.

 _I foresaw your death last night._ Dru giggled.

Her opponent snarled and struck out against her. Razor-sharp claws ripped through her sleeve, cutting deep into her arm.

She hissed in outrage, snapped back into a low crouch across from him. “Naughty, naughty boy…” she sing-songed. Her arms extended in a slow dance, weaving back and forth like a cobra about to strike. She was the charmer and the snake, and her prey was mesmerized.

Slowly, he began to rock with the same rhythm she did, lost in the dance and the music that only she could hear.

She sung it in her mind, a subliminal hum that throbbed and pulsed through the arena, and Buffy had to turn away rather than risk being drawn into his haunting rhythm herself.

“That’s my girl…” Spike whispered, and Buffy wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to.

Drusilla smiled up at him then, a quirky, Cheshire smile that showed a hint of fang. She leaned into her opponent one last time, and this time he’d lost the will to fight back. Trapped within the spell of a demon far more powerful than he’d ever dreamed.

Her lips brushed his ear, and they could all see him shiver. And then she whispered one last word: “Fall.”

The other vampire collapsed then, as if all the life had been sucked out of him. Drusilla rose gracefully to her feet, brushing angrily at the sleeve of her dress where it had been torn. A cry erupted from her opponent’s line at her callousness, and they streamed onto the main floor, circling their sire.

She let them deal with him and strode toward her own family, her head proud and high, a dancing lilt to her movements even now. No vampire in the entire arena doubted in that moment that the deadly music still thrummed through her veins, ready to work its cruel will on them all.

Her opponent was carried offstage. Alger declared her the winner.

“Good boy. Have a biscuit,” she muttered under her breath at Alger’s apparent subservience.

Spike grinned at that and nuzzled her throat. “You were magnificent, my love,” he purred against her.

Buffy leaned her head on Dru’s shoulder, looking across the room at Thanos. “Someone’s still after your blood, though,” she sighed.

Drusilla looked across the stadium to see that, indeed, Thanos had dared to watch the entire proceedings. He’d watched her seduction of her prey, learned from her techniques. She bore into him with endless black eyes, and for one instant he dared to stare back.

Then, he was given his own final challenge, and he rose to his feet.

“Only three left now,” Drusilla commented casually, watching as Thanos faced another male. “Soon two…”

“You and Thanos are going to fight tomorrow,” Buffy commented. “You have to.”

Drusilla nodded. “Unless some last knot in the rope binds us,” she agreed, frowning.

Thanos’ battle was over quickly. A rather straightforward victory. Tomorrow it was, then. Tomorrow, it was…

* * *

Cassandra was the first to greet Drusilla as they entered the halls that night. Something of a celebration had sprung up that evening in anticipation of the morrow’s resolution, and vampires of all lines mingled for the first time, unconcerned with their challenges any longer.

“My Queen,” Cassandra danced to the beat of drums and wild stings playing in the background. Her rather impressive bulk landed at Drusilla’s feet in a low bow.

Spike’s scarred eyebrow quirked, and he gave Dru a pointed look.

She sighed. She hadn’t had occasion to encounter the other vampiress since her unfortunate and unwelcome proposition. She’d hoped to avoid the matter altogether. It appeared the stars would grant her no such leniency. “My fellow seer,” she greeted the pretender to the throne.

Cassandra practically bubbled over with excitement at the form of address. She rose and kissed the back of Dru’s hand, then leaned in to taste her lips.

Drusilla didn’t allow her to linger, however. Especially when she noticed how Buffy was clinging possessively to Spike. “The stars would have a word.” Dru crooked one finger, dragging the other vampiress off to the side.

Buffy watched them go and leaned in closer to Spike’s body, rubbing up against him erotically. Her arms latched around his neck, pulling him in closer, and he met her mouth eagerly. Her tongue plunged in forcefully and aggressively, so that he started with the force of her fervor. _Mine._ The word seemed to echo through the chamber to all that looked their way. _Ours._

Drusilla ignored them, although she knew that Cassandra watched with rapt and angry fascination. “Little girls mustn’t play with others’ toys,” she commented off-handedly.

“Little girls must learn to share,” Cassandra snapped back. The menace in her voice was clear.

“Your blood pulses for my William,” Drusilla countered. “I can feel it, taste it on my teeth.”

“His body pleases me,” the other vampiress agreed.

“You wish to possess him.”

“I do. It is not unheard of to request such a prize.” Cassandra’s eyes darkened as she watched Buffy crawl all over the object of her lust. “I desire only simple pleasures, nothing more. It is little to ask in return for my loyalty.”

“You ask that which is not mine to give,” Dru countered neatly.

Cassandra practically shook with rage at that. “Not yours to give?” She laughed a cold, heartless laugh. “Are these the words of a queen? He is your childe, your creation. You have molded him to your will, and he should fall at your feet.”

“William never took much to molding.” Dru’s tone was wry, but a deep, angry burn lit up her eyes.

“You cannot even rule your own family,” Cassandra said with disdain.

“And where are your childer?” was the icy retort.

Cassandra puffed up with the insult. “You know perfectly well,” she insisted, biting back the dark pain at the core of her being.

“All gone, aren’t they?” Dru’s tone turned cruel. “All gone to dust… Defeated, beaten, staked.”

“You do not wish to cross me,” Cassandra warned.

“Nor you, me,” Drusilla snapped back, flashing fangs for an instant. Her expression immediately turned chastised, innocent, as if she hadn’t shown a demon’s face mere moments before. “Mustn’t give away my pretties,” she sang softly. “Not let you break them like you broke your own.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, and Drusilla knew for the first time that she faced an opponent who saw through the madness and spotted the lucidity and calculation buried within. “I will have him,” she concluded, “or you will have a new enemy come sunset.”

“I have so many already…” Dru shrugged.

Cassandra walked off in a huff.

Buffy watched them, saw Cassandra’s departure, and removed her tongue from Spike’s throat.

“You and Dru plannin’ on pissing all over me while you’re at it?” he grumbled, glaring at one of Thanos’ childer, who was giving him a quizzical look.

“We drove her off, didn’t we?” Buffy retorted. “Be grateful.”

“That one won’t give up easily,” Spike said thoughtfully.

Drusilla approached. “My William is wise,” she agreed, taking his arm and leading him into an impromptu dance.

Buffy watched her sires dance together to their own rhythm beneath the pulsing beat of the hall. She watched the calculating glances being thrown the elder pair’s way. Watched Thanos’ slow smirk as he watched them together. Watched Cassandra sulk off to the side.

And then, almost as one, the two enemies turned their eyes on _her_. She gulped and took a step back, shaken by their intense observation…

“You all right?” Xander’s question interrupted her impulsive attempt at flight.

She smiled at him, grateful for the distraction. “Where’s Harmony?”

He shrugged. “Working.”

She nodded. “Care to dance?”

A wicked grin lit up his face. “Why, Miss Summers, I’ve been waiting over a millennium for you to ask me that.”

Buffy’s suspicious mind thought she detected a threat in that. His old desire to own her born again, perhaps? But his smile was genuine, and his manner almost courtly as he led her in the dance.

She quickly concluded that this place was making her crazy…

* * *

The music had picked up a feverish pace. The deep rhythms of times of old turned frantic by the demons that danced in the dim light deep beneath the earth. A sort of hell brought to life, chaos and anarchy as blows were exchanged, blood spilt, couples fornicating recklessly and wildly for all to see.

But the obvious wickedness was nothing compared to what lurked within the minds of the room’s inhabitants. It was too much to see almost, too dazzling the plans and counterplans, alliances and wars, changing with almost lightning speed. Few wills would stick true to their course faced with such a fickle mob. But the few who did were as sharp and honed and cruel as any beings to walk the earth.

Two eyes, dark pinpoints in the shadows, watched the festivities. In particular, they narrowed in on the forms of two vampires, much like any of the others, as they danced together in the center of the hall. But these two were different. So very different. Even now, a web of death and deception closed in around them, just waiting to close in.

The owner of those two eyes closed in first.

“May I cut in?”

Spike and Dru halted their dance in surprise, so caught up in their own world that they hadn’t even detected the other vampiress’ approach. Spike raised one eyebrow at her; Drusilla smiled.

“Of course, my dear.” She released Spike’s hand, and he took a step back.

Caleigh smiled and took Dru’s offered hand. “Excuse us, handsome,” she winked at Spike.

More curious at this development than irritated, he moved away, watching the two powerful vampiresses as they danced together.

“We have not spoken before this day,” Drusilla commented casually.

Caleigh nodded her assent. “A common bond binds us, however.”

“Thanos?”

“I want him dead!” Deep venom rose in Caleigh’s words, and her eyes burned with furious golden intensity.

Drusilla smiled, catching the other vampiress back up in the dance once more. “A common bond, indeed.”

Caleigh smiled a sweet, innocent smile. Almost girlish. Undoubtedly the smile that countless of her victims had seen just prior to their final breaths. “I offer my assistance if you will avenge my humiliation.”

Drusilla nodded. “Thanos will not sit on the golden throne,” she promised.

Caleigh seemed satisfied by that. “They conspire against you,” she warned. “They would turn your family to pawns, use them as your weakness.”

“You speak of Thanos and Alger.”

A small nod of approval that Drusilla knew of the Council leader’s involvement. “Others as well. Those you might once have called allies…”

“Gertrude?” Drusilla guessed.

Caleigh couldn’t help but grin at Cassandra’s real name. “You are not so unlike your childer, after all.”

A distant smile lit up Dru’s face. “No, I am not…” she agreed.

“A question you must ask yourself,” Caleigh was looking around furtively now, as if she sensed eyes that not even Dru could detect, “if Cassandra was set to betray you, what prize was she offered?”

Drusilla frowned slowly. Only one option there…

“And how did Thanos plan to acquire it to give her?”

“Alger sought my William’s presence. Moved the ends of the earth to win it…” She was exaggerating, and they both knew it, but it didn’t matter.

Caleigh seemed to sense this was merely her manner. “Your childe is strong, feared,” she added. “His compliance could not be guaranteed without the greatest of powers.”

“What do you know?” Drusilla demanded, suddenly anxious.

Caleigh gave her a graceful shrug, a seemingly frivolous gesture that held more seriousness than Dru could ever have imagined. “I tell you this because you were not here, you could not know,” she explained. “But even those of us who have kept careful watch over Thanos know only rumors.” Her expression darkened. “We need a strong leader, yes, but one who will abide by our ancient customs. One who is, perhaps, not too strong?”

Drusilla frowned at the other vampiress’ implications. “The devil you know…”

Caleigh nodded. “We know your line and trust it. You seek power through ancient rights, not through greed and hunger and vengeance.”

“You fear what Thanos may do.” Drusilla sighed inwardly. So disappointing, really. All this secrecy, and this new ally was like the others, so caught up in the past that she feared all change. An agent of the status quo, as it were. A pity she’d lost Thanos’ challenge. Her Spike, in his more cynical moments, would say that this was a quality which the Order prized in a leader above all else, and Drusilla was not entirely sure he was wrong…

Caleigh leaned in close and licked a trail up Dru’s cheek in order to be close enough to whisper so softly even the nearest dancers had no chance of hearing her. “Think of this, as well. What one threat could Thanos hold over you to make you yield to his rule?”

Soft, cool lips brushed hers, and then Caleigh had vanished back into the crowd.

Drusilla frowned. She didn’t like these thoughts. She didn’t like them at all…

* * *

“I’d better watch out,” Buffy commented casually, as she and Xander came to rest beside one of the old columns and watched the dancers and musicians.

“Oh?” he inquired curiously.

“Last time you had ulterior motives.”

Xander shook his head at that. “Last time, I had delusions of glory,” he corrected. A bitter taste entered his mouth as he thought of his dead sire. “No chance of getting what I want now. It’s all long gone…”

Buffy bit her lip, feeling sorry for him. She couldn’t manage trying to persevere throughout the centuries, knowing all along that Spike was gone. Xander’s pain must have been unbearable. Still, she wasn’t about to let pity make her blind to his motives once more.

“Cordy wasn’t the only thing you were after,” she retorted a bit bluntly.

His jaw tensed, and he looked pointedly away from her. “I was young,” he said, his voice tight.

“You swore rather bloody revenge, as I recall,” Buffy pressed. “Against Willow, yes, but also…” She trailed off, let him finish the thought.

A flash of gold entered his eyes at the mention of Willow’s name, but almost as quickly, it was gone. “Things change,” he answered simply.

“Do they?” she retorted.

He shrugged, looking off in the distance and frowning at first, as if he saw something he didn’t approve of. But then he shook his head, and his attention turned back to her. “I can show you,” he offered suddenly, his eyes dark and fathomless as they met hers. “You can’t imagine what’s happened to me this last century, just how much things _have_ changed.”

There was an intensity to him that she found somewhat unnerving. And she didn’t know whether to feel threatened or elated by it. He wasn’t as strong as she was; Willow’s early treatment had guaranteed him a slow, laborious ascent into power. So she settled on the latter, but cautiously so.

“Let’s get out of this place,” he sighed at the festivities that surrounded them. “Someplace quiet.”

She let him lead her, through the corridors and out the door. The power of those around her prickled at the back of her neck, but not even she could imagine the treachery this night would bring…

* * *

“Hello, gorgeous.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at Xander’s paramour. Strange girl, a bit bubble-headed, and awfully persistent. “If you’re lookin’ for your sweetie, he’s off dancing…somewhere.” His eyes scanned the crowd, and he finally spotted Xander by the far wall, talking intently with Buffy. He frowned for a moment, but shook it off. His girl could take care of herself. She’d more than proven that.

“I wasn’t looking for him,” Harmony countered, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I told him I had Order business.”

“Do I sense trouble in paradise?” Spike asked sarcastically, not really caring one way or another.

“Paradise. Right.” Harmony rolled her eyes. “ _He’s_ the one who runs off with our high school _loser_ , and _I’m_ the problem in this relationship?”

“Another denizen of the Hellmouth…” Spike murmured almost to himself. His eyes were back on Dru now, trying to puzzle over what the hell Caleigh could be going on so long about.

Harmony’s nose crinkled up in distaste. “You really are rude, you know. I mean, I’m _trying_ to have a conversation here. Not that anyone ever listens to me,” she grumbled. “No, you’re just like all the others.”

He sighed wearily. “Look, Harm…” he began.

She leaned in close. “Wanna get away from this crowd?” She winked at him, brushing her body against his pointedly. “I’m sure we could find a nice, secluded spot, and…” She left the innuendo open.

Spike had meant to refuse. This place gave him the nerves more than he’d ever like to admit. But something about her offer… It wasn’t anything he could place his finger on. Almost like there was something else there, beyond the two of them, enticing him away from the crowds. She gave out a little squeal when he nodded his agreement, and they retreated to the nearest corridor. Best not to get stepped on by dancers while having their fun.

Her body was soft and curvaceous against his, and her lips were ever so sweet. But then, he couldn’t escape that tingle on the back of his neck. The one that told him something was terribly, horribly wrong…

* * *

Drusilla frowned for a moment after Caleigh’s departure, and then she searched the crowd, seeking desperately her two childer. The alarm grew within her when she could find neither. She closed her eyes, felt the threads of power that led her to her lovers. Felt them both separate, vulnerable, and…

She wouldn’t have felt it had she not been seeking them out, she was sure of it. But she felt the electric jolt arc through her childe, felt consciousness slip away, felt them try to take what was hers.

And, with a banshee’s shriek, she ran to her childe’s aid, throwing all others out of her way. Only moments to spare before it was too late…


	12. Chapter 12

Spike let out a startled gasp as something struck him hard from behind. For a few moments, arcs of energy raced through his body, and he fought the pain. But then it was too much, and he collapsed to the ground.

Panting back against the wall, Harmony let out a gasp of indignation. “Rude much?” she demanded.

“Be silent.”

Four of Alger’s minions had crept upon them, and now the vampires lifted Spike easily off the ground.

“Oh great,” Harmony grumbled, taking an angry step forward. One of the vampires raised the stun gun her way, and she halted. “You couldn’t have waited until after? I mean, really…” She rolled her eyes but kept her distance.

“You will not speak of what has happened here,” one of them ordered her.

“Ugh.” She scrunched up her nose. “Like I’d _want_ to? I didn’t even get to the good part!”

Alger’s minions were obviously perplexed by her manner, but they paid her no mind. Two began to carry Spike away, while the remaining two guarded the end of the corridor.

Which, in retrospect, had been a wise move. Or maybe just a really stupid one.

Because, at that moment, Drusilla came barreling down the hall with her full fury, eyes blazing and fangs bared.

“She’s coming!” The two with Spike made a run for it. The other two held up their stun guns, prepared to face off with this attacker.

“Hey!” Harmony objected belatedly, catching one by the shoulder and wrenching him. “You can’t attack her! There are, like, rules, and you have to challenge and stuff.”

Bafflement filled the minion’s face for a second, and then he couldn’t take it anymore and zapped Harmony right in the chest.

She let out an indignant little gasp and fell to the floor, unconscious.

It didn’t do her attacker any good, however. Drusilla, with only one opponent facing her, had turned to her strongest defense and enthralled him. The first minion dropped his weapon upon her unspoken command and didn’t even flinch when she came upon him in a storm of fury, ripping his head clean from his shoulders.

The remaining minion turned back to the master vampiress just in time to see his companion vanish in a swirl of dust. Too late, he raised his weapon, and he found himself pinned painfully to the wall, the stun gun falling uselessly to the floor.

“Where have they taken him?” Drusilla snapped angrily, looking more beast than human.

“T-To the halls of Memnos’ line.”

“How long ago?”

“You just missed them.” He gulped. “A few seconds.”

“How many?”

“T-Two. Look, please don’t—” His plea was never finished as his heart was ripped clean from his chest in an explosion of dust and ash.

Drusilla vanished down the corridor, faster than even the immortal eye could see. And, again, she was not a moment too soon. They were at the chamber doors. One with her William slung over his shoulder, and the other unlocking the door. Only a few more seconds and her boy would’ve been inside and she unable to enter after him.

She launched herself upon the vampire trying to open the door. He shrieked and struck back at her, but she clung to his back, dug her teeth into his throat.

He fell backward, slamming her against the far wall of the hallway, but his strength was no match for hers, and he didn’t damage her in the slightest. Her claws dug into his throat now, ripping at flesh, draining away his blood, and severing his life. She savored her bloody victory, made this fool suffer for what he’d tried to take from her.

In fact, she’d almost gotten so absorbed in this kill that she’d forgotten the other, the one who still held Spike captive. She looked up just in time to see that the final minion had opened the door.

One final rip, and she dispatched the vampire beneath her. Charged with her full preternatural strength for the door.

She collided violently with the last of the kidnappers, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that her Spike had fallen inside the door and its barrier. Invited already, by Thanos or one of his minions. A scream of despair rose up in her, and she took it out on the vampire below her. Soon, he wasn’t even recognizable as humanoid, just a bloody pulp.

She ended his life with a final angry hiss and turned back to her childe, leaning on the invisible barrier that separated them, her mind flailing frantically for hope.

It was this wild fear that had stopped her from seeing it at first, of course. Too much agitation and not enough common sense. But she realized then that not all of her boy was blocked from her. His arm had fallen forward, over his head, when he’d been thrown to the ground, and two fingers stretched past the threshold and into the corridor.

Drusilla could’ve wept with relief at that. Maybe it was just enough of a grip that she could pull him free. Thankfully, there seemed to be no one in the chambers to pull William through her grasp. But she must hurry before she was interrupted.

She caught his fingers gently and pulled. It was excruciating, having to be so gentle, when what she really wanted was to yank with her full strength, catch him up in her arms, and be gone from this dreaded place. But she could easily yank his fingers clean off, and then he would be gone from her.

So, she kept her patience and pulled gently on his hand. Soon, his entire wrist was through the doorway. She grabbed his hand tightly, then, and dragged him out into the hall, wincing inwardly when she heard a joint pop in his arm – hopefully just a joint and not bone – and his head collided rather violently with the doorframe.

But then he was out, free, in her arms, and she clutched him to her, her forehead pressed to his, her demonic features rippling back out of his existence. Her boy, safe, hers once again.

“They’ll not take you from me,” she whispered into his hair over and over again as she carried him like a child in her arms. “They’ll never take you from me…”

It seemed a lifetime before they reached Heinrich’s rooms, and Drusilla had him safely within her bed once more. Thanos could no more touch her here than she could have touched him in his rooms. So long as there were no traitors in her own line, her boy would be safe here.

And, with the immediate disaster averted, Drusilla’s mind turned to larger problems. The blind panic was fading now that she had her mate once more.

“My sweet must wait here,” she informed him softly, stroking his hair even though he was still unconscious and unable to hear her. “Mommy will get our sweet girl, and then we’ll be together, and we’ll make them pay for even daring to try to take you from me.”

Vengeance burning in her eyes, she left him in the care of Penn’s childer and entered the halls once more. Oh, Thanos would pay for this. In blood and agony…

* * *

“You have something to say, or are you just going to stand there all night?” Buffy couldn’t put her finger on it, but something felt… _off_ tonight. It made her edgy, caused her to snap at Xander more than usual.

“I’m just trying to think of where to start,” he conceded that he was taking far too long to begin.

“The beginning?” she suggested sarcastically.

“You know the beginning.”

“Oh. Right.”

He smiled slightly, the hint of fang glinting in the moonlight. They hadn’t drifted far from the Sanctuary, just out to the first pillars that guarded the entrance. Both outside and in, the cusp of the threshold.

“When they first brought me here,” he began slowly, “all I wanted was power for my revenge.”

“Against Willow.”

He shook his head. “Against the three of you, too. I wasn’t too particular about assigning blame.”

“Oh god,” Buffy shook her head, “you’re working for Thanos, aren’t you?”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Will you let me tell this or not?”

She winced and made a motion like zipping her lips. “Right. Sorry.”

There was something about talking to her that brought him back to those days. Their words, expressions, patterns of speech… They all tended toward the late 20th century when they were around each other. Perfectly natural that they should speak together now as they had all those years ago.

“The Order doesn’t just hand out power,” he went on. “I served as a minion for decades. Running errands and seeing to some rather snot-nosed masters’ needs. Definitely the shit-job of the demon world.”

Her lips quirked slightly at his imagery.

“But it was good in its way, y’know? It kept me from dwelling too much on the past. There would be days – weeks sometimes, even – where I just wouldn’t have time to think about Willow or…” His voice trailed off at the memory of his lost sire.

“It still hurts you,” Buffy breathed. “Even now.”

“You can’t imagine,” Xander sighed. “Or maybe you can. With the one you lost. Maybe it’s the same both ways…”

She nodded slightly in agreement with his point.

“I’m not sure if it’ll ever get better, really,” he went on. “Eternal possibilities, all lost because I was too young and foolish to see what I had.”

Buffy looked at him in surprise at that.

He grinned, amused that he’d shocked her. “You didn’t think you were the only one growing up all these years, did you?” he teased lightly.

“I-I just…” Buffy found herself at a loss for words.

He laughed. “You’ve realized it too, of course. Sooner than I did, I’ll bet. I can see how… _close_ you and Dru are now. But when you’re young and your demon’s screaming at you to take everything you want for yourself…” He shrugged. “We all do stupid things, I would imagine.”

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

“I guess, in the end, the distance gave me perspective,” he decided. “Not that Willow can’t be a complete witch – because she can – but planning my revenge just made me remember what I’d lost all the more…” He looked off into the distance, and a small night breeze rose up around them.

Buffy let him pause in his own thoughts for a minute before speaking. “So, what does this mean to me?” she asked curiously.

“Well, for one, that it’s not your fault – or Spike’s or Dru’s – what happened to Cordy. I was the one who let Wood’s gang in.” A quick gasp like the next sentence caused him pain. “It was my fault. I killed her.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt her,” Buffy assured him softly. “Like you said, we all do stupid things. When you’re young… All that power, all of a sudden. It makes you feel like you’re immortal. And not just the eternally-young-and-beautiful bit,” she added with a wry smile.

“Was that a compliment?” he teased, his mood seemingly lighter now that he’d gotten that off his chest.

“You and Harmony should stop by some time when Spike’s in less of a pissy mood,” she offered coyly.

He snorted at that. “Is Spike ever _not_ in a pissy mood?”

“You’d be surprised. He’s just…er, _high-strung_ right now because he hasn’t killed anything in a while. He can be a real sweetheart when he’s had his daily doses of blood, violence, and sex.”

Xander paused as if on an old, fond memory. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, “Spike wasn’t half bad. Not like…” A little frown. “Some others I could name.”

Buffy let it drop. It wasn’t her place to pry into painful memories they hadn’t shared, after all. “And Harmony?” she inquired, lightening the mood once more.

“You know, I almost had a heart-attack when I first saw her here?” Xander laughed. “She left town after she was turned. Willow never even knew about it. And then the odds of running into her all the way out here?” He shook his head. “I’d thought I’d lost my mind and was seeing things.”

“Except, y’know, if you were seeing things, why would you see _Harmony_.” Buffy grinned, and then realized belatedly that maybe she shouldn’t poke jokes at his girlfriend. Or whatever Harmony was.

Xander assured her with a wave of one hand that it was okay. “All those snide remarks I made about the Cordettes, and look at me now…” A grin. “Anyway, Harmony and I are…coworkers.”

“Coworkers?” Buffy repeated incredulously.

He shrugged. “Coworkers with benefits?”

She laughed at that. “You two seemed cozy on the transport.”

“Cozy,” he conceded. “And you seemed cozy in that little love-nest where I found you.”

Buffy purred softly at the memory of that night. ‘Cozy’, indeed. “So, you’re doing all right with the Order, then?” she asked curiously.

“Like I said, it gives you perspective. All these really powerful vampires holed away. Night in and night out worrying about factions and power plays and…” He rolled his eyes, indicating with his hands that it just went on and on. “They’re so caught up in their old customs that they don’t even bother to live. Er…unlive.” He frowned. “You know, no one’s ever made that clear to me before. Is it ‘live’ or ‘unlive’?”

Buffy shrugged. “No clue. I think ‘unlive’ is supposed to be a joke or something. One that should have died long ago. But it unlives.”

He chuckled. “Right.”

“So, basically, you do whatever the old fogies say. And then you laugh at them behind their backs.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “I get Brownie Points for living their lives for them.” He gave Buffy a challenging look when he caught her about to the make the same old joke. She acquiesced with a little shrug. “And I get to run all over the globe and actually see things for the first time.”

“Sunnydale really is a little hellhole in comparison,” she agreed, her nose scrunched up in distaste.

“Tell me about it.” He shuddered. “I almost feel sorry for Willow. Trapped over that damn Hellmouth forever.”

“Forever is relative,” Buffy shrugged.

He laughed at that. “I guess it is.”

“Never thought I’d hear pity for Willow coming from you,” she ventured hesitantly.

He sighed. “She had her reasons for doing everything she did, I suppose. I guess she was just one of those vampires that does a one-eighty turn around once they get, well…turned.”

“You should hear Spike’s stories about his human days.” She giggled at the memory. “He’s so much better off now, it’s not even funny.”

“Willow, too, in her way.”

“Yeah…” Buffy looked at him askance. “I can’t tell with you. Sometimes I think ‘same old Xander’, and other times… The demon changed something you that I can’t even define.”

“I’m a mystery,” he teased. “Women like mysteries, or so I’m told.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow.

“Feel free to explore me anytime.” He gave her the worst rakish grin in the history of the universe.

“‘Explore me’,” she repeated, laughing. “I take it back. You’re so Xander, it’s _frightening_.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear you say it…”

* * *

“Little puppies shouldn’t play with the wolves.” Drusilla’s eyes flashed gold as she cornered her quarry. “They might get eaten _aaall_ up.”

Alger gulped and tried to slip down the hall.

Drusilla’s clawed hand crashed through the wall, inches in front of his face. He let out a little squeal and came to a very nervous halt.

Her other hand came up to rest on the wall on the other side of his head, trapping him in place. “And some of your puppies,” she hissed, “have been very, very bad…”

Now, nothing this big could go down in the Sanctuary without being noticed, and by now Dru had picked up quite a procession of followers as she made her displeasure known. Just as well; they served as excellent witnesses.

“I-I-I…” Alger began to stutter.

Drusilla placed one long, red nail over his lips. “Shh…”

If anything, he looked more frightened now, confident that those deadly fingers could end his existence in a second. And he’d be dust if he was _lucky_. Torture was… Well, he’d never been able to stomach the thought of torture, to tell the truth. At least, not aimed against _him_.

“In fact,” Drusilla considered pleasantly, playing at being entirely oblivious to his fear, “ _some_ naughty puppies thought to help themselves to one of _my_ puppies. And without mommy’s permission. That was so very bad of them, wasn’t it?” Deadly dark eyes fixed on him.

“O-Of course,” he agreed helplessly. “C-Completely against Order rules and—”

“Whoever _sent_ those puppies must be punished then?” she cut him off.

A big gulp. “Yes,” he admitted, wincing in advance.

“So, of course, we must find whoever sent the puppies,” Dru concluded. “Who was that again?” she pretended to think, gazing far off into the distance. Then, her eyes focused again of his, and she grinned wickedly. “I know…” she sing-songed.

“She’s right.” One of the hangers-on who’d been following Dru since the battle outside the door of the Line of Memnos chimed in. “I recognized them. It was Bill and Floyd. They work for you.”

Dru frowned. “What kind of name for a vampire is ‘Floyd’?” Then, she shook her head and turned back to Alger. “The birdie says it’s you. Now, how must I punish you properly…?” She considered several options, and her eyes locked on his, drawing him just far enough into her mind that he could see everything she was thinking of doing to him.

“P-Please…” he begged.

“You want mercy?” Dru gave him an innocent little smile.

“Yes,” he agreed, “please.”

“Must give me some reason to give it,” she tisked, “because so many want to see blood.” She turned back to the assembled crowd who did, indeed, look like they were hoping for a massacre.

“Y-You w-w-want…” Suddenly, Alger was twice as frightened.

“Tell us who ordered you to take my boy,” she pressed. “They all know, anyway,” she confided in him with a low whisper. “So obvious from where they took him…”

Alger gulped, nodded, and managed to say a name:

“Cassandra.”

And Drusilla lashed out at him in a fury. His head was off in one swipe, his body falling to dust. Belatedly, she regretted her fit of temper. For now, she couldn’t get the truth out of him. Not that she’d have managed to do so in time, anyway. She was _almost_ confident of that…

Around her, the crowd screamed for Cassandra’s blood. Whispers of her long association with Thanos’ childer quickly blossomed into theories that she _was_ one of his line. Dru knew such rumors to be false; Cassandra held sway with Memnos’ clan, no more. But Caleigh’s warnings had taught her only too well that Cassandra had obviously been involved in this plot from the beginning. She let the mob’s rage rise to feverish proportions.

“Shall we get her?” she asked, eyes wide and childlike.

A deafening roar and a stampede of demons agreed with her.

* * *

“Did you hear that?” Xander’s ears perked up in sudden alarm.

Buffy frowned and turned back to the door. “It sounds like a war broke out in there.”

Xander scowled. “There shouldn’t be any…”

They exchanged a nervous glance, and that unsettling feeling Buffy had felt earlier increased tenfold. Something was watching, waiting…

“Hey!” Xander yelled out in sudden alarm.

Buffy spun just in time to see the world suddenly go black. And then her body collapsed to the ground unconscious. Out before the battle had even begun…

With an enraged leap, Xander tackled Thanos back to the ground, fangs only inches away from the older vampire’s throat. It really was an exceptionally stupid move, and only the sheer surprise factor of it allowed him to succeed for so long.

Thanos’ childer quickly responded, however, dragging Xander back off their leader. Thanos rose once again, and a second blow to the forehead knocked Xander out as well. He turned to see that the rest of his minions had already loaded Buffy into the transport.

“What do we do with this one?” Cyril, his favorite childe, asked nervously, pointing to Xander.

“We don’t touch the Order’s own,” Thanos insisted. “Leave him.”

“He’ll talk…”

“He’ll keep quiet. We’ll give _her_ reason enough to keep his mouth shut.” Thanos gestured for the transport to take off and watched it vanish into the desert wadis with its valuable prisoner. “Inside,” he ordered his remaining allies. “We mustn’t be seen at the scene of the crime, as it were…”

* * *

Inside, the enraged search for Cassandra continued, and everyone remained perfectly oblivious to the fact that Thanos and his childer had appeared so late in the game.

* * *

And, twenty minutes later when Xander finally woke up, he realized that Buffy and her captors were long gone. And he swore long and hard.


	13. Chapter 13

Spike paced the room relentlessly, nostrils flaring and angry eyes occasionally alighting on another member of their little council of war. On the sofa, Drusilla sat calmly, seemingly trapped within the depths of her own mind, considering their problem. Harmony stood awkwardly in the doorway, while Xander leaned back against the wall watching Spike pace.

The problems that faced them were simple:

1) Buffy had been kidnapped.

2) Cassandra had sought sanctuary within the halls of Memnos and couldn’t be gotten out.

3) Alger had been oh-so-not-obliging as to cover up Thanos’ direct involvement before he dusted.

As it was, Thanos was doing quite an excellent job of looking as innocent and distressed as the rest of them. Spike was going to rip him limb from limb soon if he didn’t spill about Buffy’s location. He could still hear the distant song of her demon, so she hadn’t been killed yet. But it was a threat Thanos could dangle over their heads until the end of the world if they didn’t do something.

“Thanos can’t keep sheltering Cassandra,” Xander finally spoke out. “He’s about to have a riot on his hands.”

“He can’t sacrifice her,” Drusilla commented slowly. “Or she’ll tattle on him.”

“Doesn’t need to keep this up indefinitely,” Spike pointed out, finally coming to collapse on the bed beside Dru, his head in his hands. “After tomorrow, he’ll be the High’n’Mighty Lord of Everythin’, and he can toss dear old Gertrude to the wolves. No matter how loudly she screams, no one’ll touch him.”

“I’ll defeat him,” Dru hissed angrily. “Bathe in his blood.”

“You do, and it’s bye-bye Buffy,” Xander pointed out. “You have to give him credit: No one’s ever taken hostages during a succession ceremony…”

Dru frowned at that. The pretty boy was right, of course. She’d be given her choice: Her childe or the throne. “Wretched thief…” she growled at the very thought.

“The big question is,” Xander began again uncertainly, “if you step aside and let him win, will he actually give Buffy back?”

Spike and Drusilla snorted in surround-sound.

“Yeah, I gotta agree,” Xander frowned.

Harmony’s eyes drifted shut as she began to grow bored of the proceedings. I mean, hello? Talking in circles much? She was half asleep when a knock on the door jolted her back into consciousness with a little squeak. Everyone turned to look at her.

“I’ll get it!” she squeaked in a similar manner, covering up her little doze. Some talents from high school proved invaluable throughout eternity.

Walking primly from the room as if nothing were amiss, she cracked open the door and frowned. “Is Dalton one of the people we want dead?” she called back over her shoulder.

Several curious glances at this newcomer.

“No,” Spike agreed reluctantly. “He can come in.”

“So kind of you.” Dalton entered nervously, shoulders hunched, looking as unassuming as possible.

“Haven’t seen you about much,” Spike commented casually, somewhat suspicious. He rose to his feet again and circled the Council member slowly, savoring the scent of fear.

“Yes, well, it’s not the Council’s business to interfere in Order decisions,” Dalton agreed, his voice a bit high like he was trying to strangle back a scream of fright.

“Your colleague didn’t feel so,” Drusilla countered, patting the spot of the bed beside her that Spike had just vacated. 

It really was an invitation he couldn’t risk refusing. He sat nervously beside her. “Alger acted horribly, and the Council deems his punishment just,” he agreed. “For a mere Council member to side with one of the challengers… Well, it’s just unheard of!”

“Yeah. Right.” Xander rolled his eyes. Everyone knew that Council members always picked sides, sometimes more virulently than the competitors’ own childer. But everyone also did their best to preserve the _illusion_ that the Council was neutral.

“It seems you’ve got a new leader to pick yourselves.” Spike cocked his head to one side and studied the bookish vampire. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something here he was missing.

“Oh, the Council is much quicker at deciding these matters,” Dalton agreed smoothly. “In fact, I come to you as…well, the Council Leader.”

Spike snorted, as if this fact didn’t surprise him. There had to be a reason Dalton was sucking up to them after all, given how he was obviously scared shitless.

“And what do you come to tell us?” Drusilla asked curiously.

He looked up then, for the first time, meeting her eyes directly. She saw some intention there, puzzled over it as he gave her a little nod. Some message he was trying to pass on without speech. Playing at being neutral just like all the others…

It was a simple matter for her to enter the mind that had been intentionally opened for her, and see the intricate threads of the plan that had been woven within.

Acting as though nothing unusual was occurring, Dalton continued to talk. “It’s absurd,” he insisted, “to sacrifice the highest position in the Order for the sake of a Master born to the Order only days ago.”

Spike growled, but Dru held up one hand halting him. _Silence. There’s more._ Her telepathic words more than her gesture reined in his fury, if only for the moment.

“And Thanos wouldn’t _dare_ harm your childe. He’s far too much of a coward for that,” Dalton went on. “No, this kidnapping was a simple trick to lure you away from what’s important. You must simply challenge him tomorrow as if nothing has occurred. Silly, really, trying to pull these juvenile tricks…”

Dalton finished his speech just as Dru pulled back out of his mind, filled with new knowledge. He let out a little gasp, but she held him in place with her arm, disguising the momentary lapse that always followed telepathic invasions. Although she was fairly certain that her Spike saw what was truly happening.

“He’s right,” Dru agreed, nodding with false earnestness. “Thanos will not harm our girl. If he would dare, he would have come to us by now with his ransom.” She gave Spike a pointed look.

“Er…right…” he agreed reluctantly, horribly confused.

“Are you crazy?” Xander asked in disbelief. “The vamp’s a psychopath!”

Harmony nodded in nervous agreement.

“No no, children.” Drusilla rose and patted Xander’s cheek affectionately. “You’ll learn over time. Thanos is nothing, his threat merely smoke and mirrors.”

Xander opened his mouth again.

“And _nothing_ will dissuade me from my choice,” she added sternly.

Xander had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

“So, like, I guess you don’t need us then. Right?” Harmony spoke up, her brows furrowed into a frown.

“Not at all,” Drusilla agreed, politely gesturing that she could go whenever she pleased.

“Okay, cool. So, bye! Good luck with that whole grandchilde-not-getting-killed thing!” With a final wave, Harmony left.

Xander got up to go as well, but Drusilla latched onto his arm, holding him fast. “What’s going on here?” he asked, convinced now that there was more here than met the eye.

“She’ll go to Thanos and relay our message?” Drusilla spoke aloud of the visions Dalton had shown her for the first time.

“It should be enough to draw him out of hiding before the final challenge tomorrow,” Dalton agreed, rising to his feet. “He’ll have to make sure you take the threat to Buffy’s life seriously.”

Drusilla nodded slowly. “We’ll stick to the plan,” she agreed.

“Good.” He gave her a little bow, darted a suspicious look over at Spike, and left as well.

Spike and Xander turned their eyes back to Dru. “Care to tell us what this plan of yours is?”

She smiled and gestured for them to gather in closer…

* * *

Buffy awoke with a painful groan. Her head felt heavy, leaden, and her vision swam. Dizzily, she tried to remember how she’d ended up this way. 

Vague images came to her slowly, as if they were very far away and she had difficulty focusing on them. _Xander. I was talking to Xander… And then… There was something… Hit me and then…_ She shut her eyes again against the pain and stopped that train of thought. She was pretty sure she’d gotten everything out of it that she could, anyway.

 _Thanos._ She remembered the last image before this very dark gap she’d fallen into. _It was that bastard Thanos. He knocked me out…_

With a hiss of pain and another spell of dizziness, she managed to sit up. She realized quickly that a simple blow wouldn’t have disoriented her this much no matter how powerful Thanos was. No, she was probably drugged. Great. Just great.

Slowly, she tested her limbs one by one. The feeling returned, although it shot up and down her nerves like needles. Apparently her entire body had been numb from the drug. This just kept getting better and better…

Her demon began to rise again in the back of her mind, and she could feel it like a blessed coolness over her body’s aches. A healing flood ran through her veins, restoring her to her usual strength. Of course, her healing powers were limited without fresh blood, but she’d taken enough that her body no longer ached.

Her head, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Her eyes still burned when she opened them, and it felt as though her temples were being pounded like drums. It was making her mind slow, making it difficult to focus.

At first, she thought the drugs were still working on her, but then she came to realize that the source of her pain was much simpler than that. Squinting against the pain, she saw a painfully bright square of sunlight only feet from where she now rested. In the harsh desert environment, the shaft of light was so intense that it refracted off the stone walls, echoing back its heat and light in all directions, bombarding her with its deadly force.

Buffy groaned and began inching away from the sun patch. She could see where she was now. It was some deep fissure in the rocks, a cave well over one-hundred feet deep. Several shafts of sunlight streamed in from the entrance far overhead. Not enough to kill her, but more than enough to leave her weak and nauseous.

She looked down at her hands to find them glowing a pinkish-red with sunburn. No doubt all her skin had turned that color by now. It itched, burning like a rash. But, as unpleasant as that was, Buffy favored it to her skin actually being on fire.

Quickly, she found a dark little niche in the rocks, one where she calculated the sun would never reach. It allowed her some limited shelter, and while the blaring light continued to set every nerve ending tingling with distress, her skin cooled down a bit. It was the most relief she’d get until nightfall.

Nightfall.

With sudden alarm, Buffy realized that tonight was Dru’s big battle with Thanos. The pieces of the puzzle fell slowly into place for her. _Your childe for the throne._ Ugh. She was hating Thanos more and more by the minute. She had to get out of here and get to Dru.

Except, of course, that was impossible. They hadn’t left any guard on her; they hadn’t had to. The entrance to the cave was so brightly illuminated that even _looking_ at it made Buffy all too aware of the fragile demonic force that held the dust particles of her being together. Never before had she been made this conscious of her mortality. It was terrifying in a way she’d never imagined.

No escape until dusk then. Probably after, given how the sun’s relentless persistence would heat up the desert for hours afterwards. And, by then, it would be too late. Thanos the high power over them all, Drusilla defeated and Spike… _Oh god, please don’t let Spike be part of the trade for my life, too._ She shivered at the recollection of Cassandra’s not-so-subtle interest in her sire. She was starting to feel nauseous again. And hot. Unbearably hot.

With a final groan, her eyelids fluttered shut once more. The refracted sun was taking its toll on her, and oblivion rushed over her once more. And, in that one horrifying moment before unconsciousness, one hopeless thought came to her: _There’s no way they can beat him now. Not unless they leave me to die. So, either way, I’m screwed…_

* * *

“Like clockwork.” Drusilla smiled like a very satisfied feline when the knock sounded on the door.

Spike’s attention perked up, and he nodded for Xander to open it.

“Yeah?” Xander raised one curious eyebrow at the Master outside. One of Thanos’ childer, of course. If Xander recalled correctly, his name was Cyril.

“I request a brief audience with Drusilla,” Cyril said formally and quite politely.

“I dunno,” Xander pretended to consider this. “I’ll hafta go ask her. Wait here.” He shut the door again and leaned back against it, humming softly to himself and counting to a hundred in his head.

Back in the main audience room of their chambers, Drusilla giggled in anticipation.

Finally convinced that he’d left the other vamp waiting long enough that he’d started squirming, Xander opened the door once more. “She wants to know what this is about,” he insisted.

“I bear a message,” Cyril insisted.

“Yeah, see, Drusilla doesn’t see how any message from you should matter to her,” Xander countered with a snide curl of his lip.

“It’s from Thanos!”

“Yeah…” Xander trailed off slowly. “Then why isn’t Thanos here to deliver it?” he pressed.

“It’s just a message.”

“And Dru doesn’t negotiate through messengers. That’s always risky, y’know? Things tend to get… _misheard_ …”

Cyril frowned. “I see.” He hesitated another moment. “I’ll be right back,” and he darted off.

Xander closed the door again and gave Dru and Spike the thumb’s up sign. “He’s getting Thanos.”

“Climb into our web, little fly…” Drusilla sighed dreamily.

Spike snorted. There were large sections of this little ‘plan’ of hers and Dalton’s that he didn’t like. But this part of it was satisfying enough that didn’t care about the rest for now. Oh yes, this would be fun, indeed. He only hoped the sacrifices they were making would be worth it in the long run.

Another knock. Thanos this time. Spike paced restlessly as Xander made some preliminary negotiations with the other vamp. Arguments about the sizes of allowed entourages always bored Spike silly, and right now it was practically insufferable. Finally Thanos agreed to just bring in one of his childer, so long as Dru was only allowed one of her own as well. Good thing, too. Spike wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

“Are we letting them in?” Xander asked curiously, stepping out into the hallway. His own presence hadn’t been part of the negotiations.

Spike and Dru shared a look.

“Thanos and Cyril may enter,” Drusilla agreed.

One final wink, and Xander was gone. And Thanos and his childe entered, shut the door, and found themselves immediately set upon…

* * *

“Nothing to see here,” Xander used every bit of authority he had as a messenger for the Order – which wasn’t much – to clear the hallway.

Amazingly, most of the vampires agreed. The only exceptions were two of Thanos’ childer who insisted on waiting by the door – for all the good it would do them – and Harmony.

“Hey,” Xander slipped an arm around her waist and led her down the hall with him.

“We don’t get to watch?” Harmony sounded terribly disappointed.

He shrugged. “It’s all just negotiations anyway,” he assured her before his expression hardened. “Besides,” he added, “given the way you’ve been running back and forth to Thanos as a double agent, I really doubt you want to run into Spike or Dru again.” He said this last bit casually, factually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Harmony let out a little squeak of surprise. “H-How did you…?”

“Know?” Xander retorted. “Dru is psychic, you know.” The actual truth was far more mundane, of course. Dalton’s spies had kept close watch on Thanos and spotted Harmony’s frequent visits. And since Harmony was the one who had lured Spike from the crowd and she’d run off just after Dru’s decoy to trick Thanos into paying a live visit, any doubts Xander had had were settled. He was beginning to think more and more that nabbing Buffy had been a last minute gasp of desperation when the move against Spike had failed.

Harmony gulped. “You know why I did it, right?” she pleaded with him, catching his hand. “I mean, it’s like political and stuff! You have to help both sides and be all sneaky. It’s the only way to move up in this hellhole.”

Xander sighed. The thing was that, once he’d heard it, he realized it didn’t surprise him at all. Harmony always had had illusions, convictions that she was better than all this. “I get it,” he shrugged. “That doesn’t mean Dru and Spike aren’t pissed.”

“Th-Then Thanos has to win,” Harmony concluded. “Because, when he does, he’ll _totally_ stop making me do all the grunt work and—”

“Is that what he offered you?” Xander asked curiously.

“Well, that and the money,” she conceded. “Do you have any idea how expensive it is to have the latest South American fashions shipped all the way out into the desert?”

He just shook his head. “I hope you got paid in advance…”

“Huh?” She didn’t get it, didn’t know she’d been a patsy in all this to set Thanos up. It was just as well.

“Never mind.” He walked off with her. Typically, inevitably Harmony to the end. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her pull something like this, and he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Never mind.”

* * *

“How _dare_ you?” Thanos hissed, struggling at the chains that bound him.

Across from him, Spike sat smugly, watching the older vampire writhe like a worm on a hook. “Those are unbreakable, y’know,” he commented casually. “No use struggling. So nice of the Order to see to all our bondage needs, innit?”

Thanos stilled at that, eyes still flashing daggers in Spike and Dru’s directions. “This is in strict violation of every law the Order has ever made.”

“Yup,” Spike agreed proudly, turning back to where Dru had chained Cyril up the far wall. “How about that?”

“Shall I bleed him now?” Drusilla was practically clapping her hands with delight.

“You have no right to touch him!” Thanos insisted angrily. “When the Council hears about this, you’ll be drummed from the Order. They’ll hunt you down no matter where you try to run.”

Spike chuckled. “Been there, done that, killed enough little minions that the Council just gave up.” He leaned in close so that he and Thanos were nose-to-nose. “The thing is, mate, the Order’s just fine and dandy out here in the desert. But out in the real world? _We’re_ the real power…”

Thanos’ eyes narrowed. “You do this, and I’ve won,” he retorted smugly. “Your ditsy little sire will have forfeited her challenge, and I’ll rule it all.”

“You do that, then,” Spike shrugged. “Have fun. Although you’ll have to manage a few limbs short.” He pulled a long, serrated knife from its sheath, grinning as it glinted in the candlelight. “Unless you’re plannin’ on being obliging and tellin’ us where you’ve taken our third?”

Real fear entered Thanos’ eyes for the first time. “Y-You wouldn’t!” he insisted.

And Spike scoffed. “You think me and Dru aren’t up to a bitta old-fashioned torture?” His reply was a scream as his blade suddenly pierced his enemy’s flesh. “What did you expect? We are _vampires_ , after all.”


	14. Chapter 14

_She could hear screams. Feet pounding against the pavement, she ran. And, for the first time, her preternatural speed failed her. She could feel her limbs pumping, her body moving, but each block seemed to stretch on for eternity. Or maybe her feet were caught in thick molasses. Either way, it didn’t matter. She had to keep running._

 _Finally – after what seemed like an eternity of effort – she arrived in the back-alley. Her beautiful childe’s dark eyes looked up at her, beseeching her, begging her to save him. Her demon snarled in response, baring her fangs as she faced his kidnapper._

 _It was Thanos and not. She recognized his gaunt features, pale skin, and dark hair. But this Thanos was more far-gone than any she’d seen. His body was skeletally thin, and his eyes burned with the red fires of hell, and an old-fashioned black robe adorned his shoulders. The Specter Of Death, the enemy they’d all escaped so long ago and had fled from ever since._

 _He looked up at her and grinned, his mouth full of needle-like fangs, and then the blade of his scythe slashed down. She barely had time to scream out before Parker was crumbling to dust._

 _And then – for a second – she would’ve sworn that it wasn’t Parker he held. It was Spike. Blue eyes looking up at her in horror._

 _And then she realized that Spike wasn’t the one crumbling to dust; she was. Somehow she’d managed to see things backwards, and she was the one whose throat Thanos had slit. She was crumbling away, dying. She looked up one last time._

 _No, wait, it was Spike dusting after all. It was both of them. One, the other, no Parker, no…_

With a start, Buffy woke from the nightmare, her agitated mind trying to untwist the images, make sense of them. Her entire being tensed with terror, all the more because she couldn’t decipher just what _had_ happened. Who had dusted? Had it been her or Parker or Spike? The question was filled with horrible, intense _meaning_ as so many vagaries of bad dreams did, and she struggled with it, trying to remember.

And then it slowly began to sink in that it all _had_ been a dream. Nothing important in the long run. This fear was just a ghost of her subconscious. But somehow knowing that didn’t make the lingering fear any less.

Groggily, she rose, still hot from the afternoon sun. There was no outlet to this fissure she was trapped in, and during the day the temperature had rose within, the heat building like in an oven. Buffy remembered hearing one time that deserts could get as hot as 120° F. To a vampire who liked things cool and damp, it felt ten times that right now.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to get up and reassess her situation. The angle of the sun was lower now, and it no longer entered the cavern directly. She’d survived the day, then; whoever had put her here hadn’t meant for her to die. Unless… She shuddered. Unless they planned to leave her here to starve in the heat until stepping out into the sunlight seemed like a welcome release.

Even as she cast such morbid thoughts aside, the imperative to _get out of here_ became almost overwhelming. And there was no reason she couldn’t start her climb now. It was safe, if uncomfortable.

Muscles protesting, she began to crawl her way up the stone walls, relying only on the strength of her hands to pull her up further when the overhangs caused her to dangle in mid-air. _Just keep going up. That’s all that matters. Head right for that sunny opening overhead. Er…okay, bad imagery. Don’t think about the sun. Just get out…_

And, for a while, she’d actually thought it would work. Escape was so close; she was on a ledge only twenty feet below the entrance, and she reached for the walls eagerly…

Only to hiss back in pain as her flesh burned and melted.

She started down at her hands for a minute, confused, until it finally dawned on her. Some sick bastard had painted the walls with holy water. Her heart sank when she realized that, no, there was no way she could escape this place.

The image of her trapped, starving, driven mad to the point where she met the daylight, came back to her, and she shivered despite the heat. _Oh god, please no…_

* * *

Cyril hung limp on the wall, his body looking completely dead and emaciated. The only signs that any life had ever been in him were the two bite-marks on either side of his throat from which all of his strength had been drained.

“I could make it quick and painless,” Dru sing-songed, sharp nails raking over his chest just enough to leave bluish welts in their wake. The pain was all the demon’s now, not the blood of whatever humans he’d fed upon.

Thanos turned his head away.

With a growl, Spike snapped his wrist, causing the other vampire to hiss in pain. “Pay attention,” he ordered gruffly.

“Our girl in exchange for an end to your boy’s suffering,” Drusilla offered once more.

Thanos’ teeth clenched as he took several deep breaths, willing away the pain in his arm and in his side where Spike had stabbed him earlier. “They’ll never accept you now,” he insisted, sticking to his only means of attack. “Even if you dust us both, the Order will know, and they’ll _never_ let you rule them, never let you come back…”

Drusilla sighed. “Never is such a very long time,” she whispered softly. “Few – if any – live to see it…”

“Let us go now,” Thanos insisted, “and my offer remains. You can rule as my second.”

Spike snorted.

“Why would I ever want to rule as your second?” Dru asked in disbelief. “I could have had it all, you know.” She twirled on her toes, her skirts fanning out about her, and came to a halt before Thanos. Her fingers played lightly with the black of his hair. “You knew I would defeat you. Why else play all the games?”

“You _might_ have won,” he countered with a sneer.

“Might, might… I _would_ ,” Dru insisted vehemently. “But then you forced me to make an ugly little choice.” Her eyes flashed yellow for one second. “You and your _Order_ ,” she practically spat the word, “are _nothing_ compared to my girl. My William. My family…”

Spike looked at her in surprise, about to speak, but now wasn’t the time to have a little heart-to-heart.

“So, ‘ve made my bed and I’ll sleep in it,” she concluded, looking Thanos in the eye. “I don’t _care_ anymore, you see. I don’t care about anything you have except the childe you stole…”

Thanos gulped. There was deadly intensity in her eyes for the first time. And he belatedly realized he _didn’t_ have any bargaining chips. Except that location…

“Yes,” Dru agreed lazily, hypnotically, “look into my eyes, see the truth within…”

As soon as she said it, some part of Thanos’ mind realized it was a bad idea. But even as he tried to turn his head away, she caught his chin roughly, jerking his head so that he faced her once more. And as much as he would’ve liked just not to look, there was no escaping those endless dark pools…

Spike tensed as he watched. He knew disturbing Dru would only delay finding out where Buffy was, but the urge to pester her whether she’d found that vital piece of information yet was almost unbearable.

Thanos, for his part, had broken into a cold sweat. His pupils had contracted to tiny pinpricks, and his entire face seemed to go slack. But, amazingly, he still managed to keep that look of horror on his face.

And, in that one moment, Spike envied him. Because this was one part of Dru he’d never share. She could go into his mind, true, see everything inside him. But his own mental abilities would never be enough to return the favor. If he could, however, he had no doubt that where Thanos saw horror, he’d see only endless beauty…

“My sweet boy.”

Spike started when Dru patted him gently on the cheek. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed when she and Thanos broke apart. Or maybe it was this thick telepathic haze that seemed to float in the air, making everything fuzzy and slow.

“You know where she is?” he asked, having to wet his lips before he could speak.

“I know all…” Drusilla agreed. She turned back to their foe. “You tried to take what’s mine,” she informed him coldly. “For that, I should kill you.”

“I-I could’ve lied!” Thanos insisted desperately. “You need me alive just in case I—”

“No, you couldn’t,” Dru corrected him, tisking. “I know all. But I won’t kill you.”

A gasp of relief raked through Thanos’ body. Gone, in these frazzled moments where his mind was still not wholly his, was the arrogant overlord who would’ve conquered them all.

“As I said,” Dru went on, “you _tried_ to take what’s mine. You failed. But you _did_ take what is my childe’s…”

Spike grinned wickedly, and for one second Thanos would’ve sworn he saw the specter of death in the younger vampire’s visage. And then he saw nothing at all because his body was disintegrating, collapsing in on itself. For one moment, he was still conscious and aware when he realized his eyes had crumbled to dust. He would’ve screamed, but his throat was already gone. And then, thankfully, blessedly, his mind was gone as well.

Spike only had a few seconds to savor the kill, however, before a horrendous shriek rose from Cyril across the room. He turned and shuttered. He wouldn’t have guessed the beaten husk of Thanos’ childe would still have the strength to cry out, and the image was ghastly and more than a little disturbing.

“We must leave this place quickly,” Drusilla announced, rising to her feet. “Soon, all will know what we’ve done.”

They left Cyril to his wailing and rushed to the door. There they were met with two of Thanos’ growling, recently-orphaned childer.

“Your brother’s makin’ a godawful racket,” Spike quickly began talking. “Best come in and calm him down.”

The two childer were startled by the sudden invitation and fell through the barrier. There was a risk in that moment, that they would attack Spike and Dru and delay their departure long enough to bring down the mob upon them. But, more than anything, Thanos’ childer needed to _see_ for their own eyes what their demons were already screaming to them. They rushed by the elder pair without pausing.

Spike and Dru emerged into the hallway to find Xander and Harmony.

Xander leapt up as if he’d almost given up on waiting for them and half shoved Harmony through the door. “Go help them,” he insisted with such authority that she didn’t even think to question. She still had no clue what was going on. Good. Xander turned back to Spike and Dru. “This way.”

They entered an almost invisible door at the end of the hallway, so precisely cut that the opening was barely visible even to preternatural eyes. A servant’s entrance of sorts. The sort of thing Xander would know about and all the Masters of the Order would turn their noses up at. Fortunately, Spike and Dru weren’t half as snooty as most of the vampires there.

They hurried through the dark, winding passageways. Through slaughter-rooms and prison cells lined with unfortunate mortals. Through ancient libraries and endless shelves of mystical artifacts. And through one room lined with boxes of Hostess snacks, a brand that had been extinct for almost seventy years now, though its Twinkies seemed to be living on into eternity. Spike decided not to ask.

The run through the bowels of the Sanctuary really took less than a minute, although to those with super-speed, it felt longer. Just as they arrived at the final door, loud shouts began sounding throughout the walls.

“We’ve been found out…” Drusilla whispered.

Xander unlocked the door with a key from the large ring he kept in his pocket. “They won’t catch you.” He threw open the door and there, in the small rocky cavern, was a transport with full hover capability. “We’re at the back entrance. It takes about ten minutes to get here from the front. So, go quickly.”

“Not coming with us, mate?” Spike raised one eyebrow.

Xander just grinned. “I was just the innocent errand boy sitting outside,” he pointed out. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.”

Spike grinned as well and ran for the craft. Dru paused long enough to give Xander one last pat on the cheek, and then she was gone as well after her childe.

“We appear to be outlaws once more, my love,” she commented as she sat beside Spike in the front of the transport. He took off, and they flew out into the late afternoon sun, the magical tint of the windows protecting them from the last deadly rays of daylight.

His elated expression faded again. “’m sorry. Again.”

She just chuckled. “Just the way you like it,” she teased.

“Yeah, but I know those tossers mean somethin’ to you. Hell, you practically ruled them all.”

She sighed. “Some things are more important,” she concluded. “And there are some things,” she nibbled on his ear, “that I would not sacrifice for all the power in the world…”

He kissed then, hard, passionately. The transport swerved dangerously, and he turned back to the wheel. “Later,” he promised.

Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t hardly wait…”

* * *

There was some part of Xander’s demon that would never tire of chaos and bloodshed. After nearly ten minutes of screams of bloody murder, Thanos’ two healthy childer had finally convinced the Council to disengage the invite barrier for the door to Heinrich’s line. It was only a temporary measure, and Caleigh had graciously allowed the few remaining line members the sanctuary of her own rooms.

Spike and Dru’s old room was quickly crowded with every busy-bodied vampire that could fit into the suddenly cramped space. The ashes and Cyril’s mangled body told the story only too well.

Dalton, acting quite astonished, made his pronouncement. “It is clear that Drusilla has violated all laws of succession. She has hereby given up her right to challenge for the high throne.” He shook his head sadly. “Such a terrible tragedy, both of them gone…” No one ever thought to give Dalton credit for being a damn good actor.

Thanos’ brood, seeking revenge, of course searched the entire Sanctuary for the missing attackers, but neither hide nor hair of Spike and Dru could be found. Xander was _almost_ sure he saw Dalton give him a little wink.

That blood sport taken from them, they raced out into the evening. Xander didn’t bother to follow that chase; he knew they were too late to find their quarries. Besides, the second branch of the hunt was becoming much more interesting…

“The Old Ways are being cast aside, disgraced by those who think themselves too powerful for punishment.” One of Thanos’ childer was starting up quite a little inquisition. Cyril had been returned to their chambers only minutes before with enough blood to, hopefully, revive his strength. “I say we burn the traitors out!”

Shouts and jeers from the audience.

Xander just shook his head as Cassandra was brought forward. The vampiress’ use as a political pawn was over, and she was being cast aside for the greater cause. Xander was willing to bet that Thanos Junior there was going to try to milk his adherence to the old customs to try to drum up support for his own bid for the throne. So tried, so predictable, so boring. Too bad all the interesting vampires inevitably ended up banished…

Cassandra tried to shriek, to name Thanos and his followers among the guilty, but they’d gagged her in anticipation. The pyre in the center of the Great Hall was alight now, and with a final roar of victory, Cassandra was shoved into the flames and was no more.

And it was at this fevered pitch, when Thanos’ childer seemed at their most victorious, that Caleigh suddenly leapt into the scene. Interesting. And, actually, kind of amusing that she’d waited until Cassandra was dust first. Apparently, no one had liked that old hag so much as needed her support.

“We are not savage monsters!” Caleigh screamed over the din and the protests of Thanos’ childer. “Not mere common demons. We are the Golden Order, and we will not subject ourselves to those of low, common blood.”

The crowd was caught in her spell now, their shouts that Thanos’ heir be their new king silenced.

“We will continue as the Order has always done,” she insisted. “In absence of a monarch, the Council decrees the laws of succession.”

And there was Dalton, as if waiting for that cue, standing beside Caleigh now on the platform beside the pyre. “The proper procedures must be followed, of course,” he agreed. “With all the remaining challengers removed from the arena, well… We’ll simply have to start at the beginning.”

Disappointed and annoyed remarks, but the crowd quieted, set once again upon being the ‘superiors’ of the vampire race.

And Xander watched Caleigh’s smile and frowned, noticed that Dalton’s eyes were less shifty and nervous than usual. And he couldn’t help wondering if there was something here he was missing…

* * *

Buffy had clung to life. And, even if she died here and no one else knew it, she at least had that last moment of pride to cling to.

The sun was gone now, and her entire body practically wept with relief. She was still trapped on that ledge as she watched the stars come, as she let the cool night air finally wash over her. So peaceful, so still…

 _At home._

Her demon breathed with relief at the thought. It also raged, but she tamped it down now. There was nothing she could do for Dru or Spike. Absolutely nothing. She was too late; it was done with; it was over. And there was some relief in that as well. There was only herself now, and her will to exist, to go on despite it all.

She tore at her shirt, pulling off her sleeves, wrapping the fabric around her hands. It was only a small protection, but it was enough for her to touch the rock face. The tips of her fingers still burned – were probably burning away – and her grip slipped over and over again, but she kept trying.

Sixth try she finally made a small ledge only fifteen feet below the opening. Enough to jump? She looked at the chasm below, gulped, and prepared to do so.

She thought she was imagining the quiet hum of engines at first. But then she saw a flash of light – not the sun, but those headlights that night-blind humans had forced upon on vehicles. She should’ve jumped then. After all, it could be Thanos and his goons back to finish her off. If she made it, she could run into the desert and…

She didn’t jump.

Strange knowledge filled her as the transport came to a halt over the cave entrance. She just knew who was inside, even if it was impossible. One of the side doors opened, and a rope dropped down. The light was in her eyes, so she couldn’t see them the way the obviously saw her. She climbed anyway. She was certain now. More certain with each foot she ascended, until finally she was in her grandsire’s arms, and they were driving away into the night…

* * *

It had only taken one night. Most of the previous round’s challengers had been too damaged to challenge once more, after all. The final bloody battle had been between Caleigh and Thanos’ last childe. And, oh, had it been bloody.

Roars and applause followed the victor’s ascent to the podium. And Xander couldn’t help but applaud as well. _Eliminated in the first round the first time to winning it all the second. Quite a step up…_

Dalton rose and offered their new leader the ring and dagger of kingship. “Behold, our new ruler!” he shouted above the din. Quite an impressive feat for the normally meek vampire. And then quieter, lips bent over their sovereign’s hand, he whispered another message so quiet that only Xander was close enough to hear it. “My sire…”

Caleigh grinned and turned back to the crowd, sitting on the throne for the first time.

And, amidst the applause, Xander turned to Dalton suspiciously. _You planned this all along_ , he accused the new Council leader with a look.

Dalton merely shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. After all, who could blame him for picking a queen he finally wouldn’t feel the need to cower in terror from? And who wouldn’t risk all to grant this honor to his maker?

Xander had to admit, they could do a lot worse.


	15. Chapter 15

They had been in the thriving metropolis of Lagos for almost two weeks before the Order caught up with them. Despite Spike’s rather foolhardy suggestion that he hang around Cairo and wait gleefully for trouble to come to him, Dru and Buffy had convinced him to go south and west instead. After all, no one would expect three vampires to cross the entire Sahara Desert, even through Xander had left them with more than enough fuel to make the journey.

Despite the sun-blocking technology of their vehicle, Buffy and Dru had both insisted they stay in the sheltered back sleeping area during the scorching days. Spike, who apparently had no problem with the most intense sun anywhere on the planet – or who at least _pretended_ that the baking sun didn’t bother him – drove during those two days.

It had seemed a blessing for all concerned when they finally reached the coast, however, and they dove into the nightlife of Lagos with newfound vigor. Buffy had still been weak from her ordeal, and for several days she’d just lain in the bed of the old colonial mansion they’d ‘acquired’, while Spike and Dru brought her all sorts of treats.

On the fourth day, she’d gone out to hunt on her own, although she’d felt Spike’s presence nearby, watching her to make sure she was well enough. Her silent shadow had been comforting for about a week before she’d started to get annoyed, and one day she’d ducked into a side alley before he could see her and nabbed him as he passed by. After one very stern lecture and several impromptu orgasms that had assured Spike that she was as fit as ever, she’d been left to her own devices.

Until tonight.

They’d known the Order would eventually find them, of course. It had eternity and quite a lot of manpower. What they hadn’t expected was the identity of the ‘hunter’ who finally found them.

“Will our boy bring us back in chains, then?” Drusilla inquired curiously, lounging back on the divan.

Spike snorted. “Will he get his ass kicked tryin’, you mean,” he retorted.

Xander just grinned, shrugged out of his coat, and took up the only available armchair in the room. “Dalton told me to find you,” he conceded. “Unofficially.”

“Unofficially?” Buffy repeated curiously, her arms wrapped lightly around Spike from behind as they sat together on the bed.

“Officially,” Xander agreed, “you’ve all committed horrible crimes against the Order and its laws. Well, except Buffy. Caleigh is officially outraged and has every man she can spare searching up and down Egypt for you. Although we were a bit iffy about that last part for a while,” he conceded. “I mean, we _hoped_ you’d have the common sense to go elsewhere, but…” He shrugged.

Buffy and Drusilla gave Spike smug little looks. He snorted; after all, he’d known that would be the first place to look, too. He just hadn’t cared whether they were found.

“And unofficially?” he demanded, squirming in annoyance in Buffy’s arms. He didn’t try to break free, though. Heaven forbid. He just figured she should know that he deserved a nice, lengthy apology. Preferably with blindfolds and multiple blowjobs…

Xander’s expression turned serious, and he stared down at his hands. “Caleigh knows you’re the ones who put her in power. In fact, it seems she figured it that way.”

A low growl grumbled through Spike’s chest. “Shouldn’t have trusted that bitch…”

“Why not, my sweet?” Drusilla asked innocently. “All she ever did was warn me in time to save you.”

Spike muttered, pissed that he couldn’t find some specific grievance to pin on the new Order leader. Things just weren’t right in the world if he hadn’t made an enemy out of the big cheese.

“In all fairness, Dalton played a bit with you, too,” Xander offered. “Played with me, too. Funny. No one ever bothers to figure out who sired Council members. They’re not Masters, so no one gives a hoot.”

“That li’l twerp is Caleigh’s?” Spike repeated in disbelief.

“Oh, yes, indeed.” Drusilla sighed and laid her head back against the pillows, causing her long hair to cascade over them in a dark wave. “He tried to hide it from me, you know. When he let me into his mind…” She giggled. “Silly boy doesn’t realize that I know all…”

Frankly, by this point, all Buffy wanted was to never have to deal with the damn Order again. “So they’re not out for our blood, then?”

Xander shrugged. “They have to keep up appearances. And, really, would it kill you to lay low for a few decades?”

“Yes.” Three voices in unison created a rather startling effect.

Xander just laughed. “I told them you’d say that. But they still wanted to make their offer. You’re, uh…not planning on overturning things, are you?”

Spike snorted. “Never wanted to go to that hellhole in the first place. Couldn’t drag me back if you tried.”

Drusilla’s expression was more melancholy, but she nodded as well.

“I’ll deliver your message,” Xander agreed.

“You’re leaving us once more, then?” Drusilla sounded terribly disappointed.

Xander frowned. “I have my place for now,” he answered slowly, considering his words carefully.

“Saw the light in your eyes during the mayhem, mate,” Spike pointed out. “Must get right boring playing errand boy to all the snoots. No excitement in that.”

The younger vampire shrugged. “I make my own fun,” he retorted, giving Buffy a little eyebrow waggle.

She smiled in response, understanding part if not all of his reasons for staying.

“Besides,” he added, “it’s a new regime. Maybe they’ll be less dull than the old one.”

“Yes, because _Dalton_ is such an exciting, charismatic character,” Spike retorted with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

“If not, I can always quit,” Xander conceded.

“There is that,” Dru agreed dryly, rising to her feet and gliding across the room to perch on the arm of his chair. “And that silly girl of yours?”

Xander squirmed uncomfortably at that. “She’s Harmony. She did what everyone expected.” He shrugged the incident off.

“Caleigh’s not stringin’ her hide up for Christmas?” Spike asked skeptically.

“Vengeance is overrated. As is punishment, really. So, she’ll betray everyone and everything when she thinks it’s in her own best interests. At least she’s predictable. And, given some of the vampires back home, that’s almost as good as loyalty.”

Drusilla’s hand came up to caress his cheek, and she studied his face. “You’ll find your destiny,” she promised. “One day…”

“Given the source,” he joked, “I’d say it’s written in the stars…”

* * *

Beyond the lights of the city where farmers still worked their fields as humans had been doing for millennia, the stars shone brightly in the blackness, a dance of tiny lights before Dru’s eyes.

“They last forever, you know,” she murmured softly to her two companions, eyes never leaving the midnight vault above them.

“Well, actually…” Buffy began.

Spike coughed pointedly.

“Er…right. Forever,” she hastily amended.

“I could’ve been one of them, you know.” Drusilla sounded wistful, as if she were in mourning. Although only the heavens knew for what. Her girl suspected in the back of her mind that perhaps Dru had held some affection for Cassandra, and her Spike thought that perhaps she was feeling echoes of Buffy’s loss. Best to both leave them with their illusions. “Ruling within those hallowed halls, I could’ve persisted for millennia…”

Spike snorted. “Unless the Dareians picked another war. Which you know they will. And weren’t the Honovins rattlin’ sabers with our emissaries just last spring? And don’t even get me started on the bloody Order of Tan…”

“I would have persevered,” Drusilla insisted, cutting off his little tirade. “True immortality. It’s something so few of us ever find.”

“Better off without it, luv,” he retorted. “What’s the point of existin’ forever if you don’t ever _live_?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “I suppose that’s another sort of immortality,” she teased him lightly, turning her gaze back to earth and her beautiful boy. He lay back on the grass, posture and expression cocky, and she knelt down before him, crawled up the length of his body. “You’ll be infamous long after we’ve all faded to dust, my William. Such a bad, bad boy they’ll never forget…”

He grinned. “I thought I behaved myself quite well, considerin’ the trick I pulled on Heinrich way back,” he countered, proud of his mischief.

Dru laughed, and even Buffy chuckled. “Oh, you’re hopeless, my sweet, and I love you for it.” Her lips descended on his slowly, savoring his taste.

Buffy watched Dru partake of her childe’s lips with a wistful sigh. She could still feel the ache in her chest, the void where her own childe had once been. But, if nothing else, their latest little adventure had at least distracted her and kept her from dwelling too much over these last few weeks.

 _“You never really get over a loss like that. You can always feel it if you look. But if you don’t go looking for the pain all the time, it doesn’t hurt so much.”_ Xander’s last words to her before he’d left to return to the Sanctuary that evening. And all too true, she was beginning to realize.

“We’re leaving our girl out,” Dru chided Spike when his hand somehow managed to worm it’s way down her pants.

Buffy shook her head and laughed at the suddenly contrite expression on Spike’s face. She could only dimly remember a time now when their mating would’ve made her jealous; it felt like lifetimes ago, and it was. “I like watching,” she said coyly, resting her chin on her folded arms as she watched them.

“You like joinin’, too,” Spike pointed out. She let out a little squeal when he caught her wrist and pulled her over into his lap.

Drusilla’s fingers curved lazily around one long dark lock of Buffy’s hair. “Our pretty girl, returned to us.”

Spike sighed and lay back, pulling Buffy up so that she straddled his chest. His fingers played up and down the bare flesh of her thighs, drawing her skirt up around her waist. The scent of her arousal hit him hard, and he bucked up only to find that Dru’s hands had been busy as well, and she now had his bare cock in her hands. “My girls…” he whispered huskily, catching the cheeks of Buffy’s ass in a bruising grip and pulling her sex down over his face.

Buffy let out a little gasp of ecstasy, and her body arched back when his tongue pierced her folds. He was pressing exquisitely delicate kisses along her slit now, and his thumb had found her clit and was playing with it idly. And, oh god, this was heaven…

She heard him moan beneath her, and his whole body bucked, driving his tongue even farther inside her. In the back of her mind, some dim sense of _awareness_ of her two lovers let her know that Dru had mounted him behind her and was riding his cock slowly.

“So talented, our boy,” Dru murmured, squeezing her eyes shut tight and rocking against her mate roughly. She collapsed forward with a gasp of sudden pleasure when she got the angle just right, and her head came to rest of Buffy’s shoulder, her nose filled with the scent of the other vampiress’ perfume. Time to pleasure both her lovers…

A strangled scream escaped Buffy’s lips when Dru’s hands found their way up her blouse to cup her breasts roughly. One minute caressing, the next squeezing hard. Rapid jolts of pain/pleasure that left her aching for more.

Head thrown back and leaning against Dru’s, she cried out into the night, and it seemed her climatic screech echoed infinitely out into the time. Through all times and all places. The oldest cry in both the demon and human vocabularies…

She came to at last, dimly aware that Spike was still lapping up her pleasure, that Drusilla’s thumbs flicked over her nipples. With a temporary gasp of exhaustion, she rolled to the side, lying down on her back with a blissful smile on her face and smiling up at the stars.

Beside her, she could hear Dru and Spike reach their own climaxes, felt the ground pulsating with the wild thrusts of their hips. And it was all so beautiful, so perfect. She’d thought once, that first night the three of them were together again, that the magic had been lost. But it hadn’t. She’d only learned that their love was only one wonderful fragment of her existence…

Turning her head to look at them, she smiled. “I love you,” she whispered. The fingers of one hand came up to run through Drusilla’s hair. “I love you both so much…”

A dark light lit up Dru’s eyes, and she rolled off Spike, crawling over Buffy’s body until the younger vampiress was cradled between them. “Magic words…” she whispered, kissing Buffy’s throat softly.

Spike purred and turned on his side to face her, his head resting in the crook of her throat and one hand spread possessively over the flat of her belly.

“I love you, William.” Buffy’s lips brushed dark curls before turning back to Dru. “And I love you, Dru.”

Drusilla just tisked and leaned in close. Whispered one word against Buffy’s ear.

Buffy frowned. “You’re kidding?”

“‘Drusilla’ is much better, isn’t it?” Dru grinned.

Buffy considered for a second. “No, I like it,” she decided. “I was just caught off guard.”

“Shouldn’t have been,” Dru murmured. Her hand came up to rest over Spike’s on Buffy’s stomach. “Finally told your mommy the magic words.”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “I’ve told you I loved you before…?” But, as she thought about it, she couldn’t think of a single specific instance. In fact, she couldn’t even really define how she _had_ come to love the other vampiress, just that it had crept up so slowly upon her that she hadn’t even noticed the change. Odd. Ah well, there was plenty of time to fix that now. “My bad,” she agreed with a little smile. “I love you…Abigail.”

“Love my sweet Buffy, too…”

Behind her, Spike muttered something incoherent that was probably a similar sentiment. And she would’ve sworn there was some bit about ‘even if Buffy _is_ a silly name’, but she ignored it.

She lay back down, allowing their sleepy languor to comfort her.

“I could show you, you know,” Drusilla offered slowly. “’S been so long since we last visited England… My gravestone was still there last time, all bright and shiny.”

“’S a bloody slab of gray concrete,” Spike snorted.

Dru patted his hand affectionately, the way one would try to soothe a cranky child to sleep. “So long ago now…” she sighed. Dark eyes looked up at Buffy from under her long lashes.

“I don’t think I can right now,” Buffy answered softly. She felt Spike’s body stiffen behind her, watched Drusilla’s expression turn sad. Neither of them seemed surprised. Just disappointed.

“Our little girl has all grown up.” There was both pride and wistfulness in Dru’s voice.

“I was… Actually, I was planning on leaving later this evening,” Buffy confessed, almost relieved that they’d known in advance. She hadn’t exactly relished the idea of telling them. She’d almost been sure they’d try to stop her, that at least Spike would throw a hissy fit.

“Can’t even spend another day?” was his only protest, however.

She turned to him, her thumb tracing his cheekbone fondly. “I just need to…be alone for a while,” she assured him. “Not forever, but…”

“You’re tired of me almost gettin’ us all killed,” he snorted with amusement.

She giggled and rolled her eyes. “God, I think I’d die of boredom if you _didn’t_ almost get us killed at least once a decade,” she teased.

He grinned up at her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He was so sweet on her tongue just then that it almost pained her to break away, but she did so nonetheless. “Besides, we had plenty of fun over the past few weeks to last me a good, long time,” she teased.

Drusilla laughed at the mock-offended expression on his face and hugged Buffy tighter to her. “Poor, poor Buffy. Such a rough time you’ve had of late.”

“I’ll deal.” Now that the words were finally out, she felt strangely energized by her plan. On her own really and truly, no one else’s whims to respond to but her own. “After all, I plan to live forever.” She let a hint of fang show in her grin.

“Don’t we all?” Drusilla added with a wistful sigh. But then her mood brightened once more. “You must stop by for tea, of course, whenever you’re near.”

“Tea and biscuits,” Buffy promised. She leaned in and nuzzled Dru’s brow. The two women embraced for a long moment before pulling apart. And Buffy could almost have sworn she saw tears in Dru’s eyes. Strange, that fond expression. Something in it really did remind her of the mother she’d once had so long ago. All those years of Dru calling herself ‘mommy’, and finally Buffy spotted the fundamental truth in the title.

With a little blush, she straightened her skirts, pulling them back down around her knees where they belonged. She needn’t have bothered. She caught Spike in a last, passionate embrace, and it was only a matter of time before he’d yanked her skirt right back up, his thumb catching her clit roughly for one last farewell orgasm.

Their lips slanted over each other’s violently, and she let his mouth drink down her scream of release. Only seconds later she pulled away, panting, her forehead pressed to his in a gesture of tender affection. “I’ll miss you, my loves…” Reluctantly, she pulled away, straightening her skirts yet again with a satisfied little smile.

“Only one rule,” Drusilla cut in sternly.

Buffy cocked her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Must never say good-bye. Because eternity will always bring us back together.”

Buffy smiled. “Right.” She blew them one last kiss and was gone into the night.

“Was beginnin’ to think one of us would end up holdin’ her hand forever,” Spike grumbled unconvincingly, lying back into Dru’s arms. “’Bout time she went off on her first solo adventure.”

“Second,” Drusilla corrected absentmindedly, fingers running lightly through his hair.

“First _voluntary_ solo adventure,” he corrected, sounding annoyed. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing deep of her scent.

Drusilla startled at the wetness that brushed the flesh of her throat. “Oh, William, my sweet…” She rocked him. “Are you…crying?”

“Don’t ever cry,” he insisted sullenly. “You should know that by now.” He didn’t abandon his hiding spot against her throat, however.

“Of course not,” she cooed to him softly, planting light kisses in his hair.

They sat like that in silence for some time, Drusilla looking up at the stars and smiling softly.

“You planning on buggerin’ off, too?” he finally built up the guts to ask.

“I think I would like to visit England again,” she commented thoughtfully. “Revisit all the romance of the past. The alley where we first met… If you’ll come with me, of course,” she offered.

Gratefully, he smiled up at her, and if his cheeks were still slightly damp, she didn’t comment on it. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he agreed, kissing her briefly. “But what about…?”

She hushed him with a fingertip to his lips. “When the time comes, she’ll know where to find us. Just like we always know where to find each other, my love. Some bonds cannot be broken.”

He smiled. “Can’t argue with that.”

* * *

Auckland was cool and pleasant this time of year, with clear skies that showed an endless canopy stars. Stars from the other half of the world. Stars she’d never have seen had her brief existence ended back in California.

Buffy smiled up at them as she entered the local vampire clan house. It was a small place; apparently, a bit of a skirmish better two rival factions had broken out earlier that year, and the city’s undead population had been cut almost in half. They’d rebound soon, though, she had no doubt. But until then…

She grabbed the nearest minion by the front of his shirt, dragged him up so that they were eye-to-eye. “Who’s in charge around here?” she demanded.

He squeaked and flailed wildly for a few minutes, but it was enough for her to get something about their boss being in the back room.

“Thanks.” She smiled overly brightly and sweetly as she dropped him back on his ass and made her way boldly through the rather stunned gang in the entrance room. Too stupefied to stop her, apparently.

She felt a momentary pang when she saw the leader. His hair was shockingly white, and he appeared almost as a ghost of her past. But she could feel Spike and Drusilla, distant yet still impossibly close. She felt a moment’s wistfulness, but shook it off. She’d see them soon enough; right now she was having too much fun…

“Hi,” she hauled him up almost as easily as she’d tossed about his minion earlier, “my name is Buffy Summers. And I’m in charge now…”

End Book Three


End file.
